Tarrin glanced back to see that Denai had killed off her opponent, and that left only one. The Troll he had bulled to the ground looked at him with terrified eyes, scrambling to its feet and grasping a crude club. This one was relatively uninjured, and that was the reason that Tarrin had chosen to make it the last one. Tarrin stalked in on it slowly, carefully, letting it realize that it had to fight in order to survive. When that revelation dawned in its small, piggish eyes, a snarl of fury twisted its ugly features and it raised its club to attack.
Tarrin toyed with the Troll for a long time, letting it attack him, letting Denai see how fast a Troll could move when it wanted to do so. And the Troll was indeed fast, but nowhere near as fast or as nimble as its Were-cat foe. Tarrin simply snaked around its club, or blocked it by hitting the wrist or arm wielding it, or swatted it aside with his paws. The Troll got more and more desperate when it realized that it was fighting a foe much better at fighting than itself, and its attacks became more frenzied, faster, and more and more powerful. Tarrin still avoided the club with an eerie ease, as if he were dodging blows from a small child in a game. He kept doing that until he felt that Denai had seen enough, then he turned on his opponent with a suddenness that completely took the Troll by surprise. With one blow, he knocked the Troll's club wide, raking the inside of its arm with his long, deadly claws, sending blood and skin and bits of torn flesh flying in an arc as his claws slashed through tissue and muscle. The Troll howled in pain, but that turned into a faint gurgle as two of Tarrin's claws punctured its throat with surgical precision, driving them into the windpipe and the jugular. The Troll grabbed its neck with both hands as it sank to its knees, its lifeblood pouring out of its neck with shocking speed, even as that blood flowed into its windpipe and began drowning it in its own blood. But it bled to death long before it died of drowning, slumping to the side and then falling limply to the ground.
"And that," Tarrin told her, wiping a spatter of that horrid-smelling blood from his face, "is how you kill a Troll."
Denai laughed. "It certainly did put up a fight."
"Trolls aren't cowards," Sarraya told her. "But they're stupid. That balances out."
"I noticed. They don't even try to defend themselves, do they?"
"No. They rely on strength and speed to kill their foe quickly. When facing someone that they can't kill with the first or second blow, they find themselves outclassed." He wrinkled his nose. "Let's get out of here. Trolls smell terrible, and their insides are worse than their outsides."
"I don't smell anything."
"You're not a Were-cat," Tarrin told her bluntly. "I need to wash this blood off of me. The smell is driving me crazy."
After cleaning up, they found a secure place to camp for the night, in a relatively deep cave in the side of a rocks spire. Tarrin Conjured a leather sheet to hang over the entrance to block the light of the fire, and they spent the night taking turns watching. There were several fires visible to the north, several more to the south, and even a few to the east, which was the direction the cave mouth faced. They were probably fires for the Trolls to ward off the Sandmen, for he doubted there were that many Selani about with all of them at Gathering. He'd seen a few of them near the rock spire, or perhaps it was the same one two or three times, a ghostly bundle of drifting sand, sand that was whirling around inside some kind of invisible boundary. That was all a Sandman was, a blowing quantity of sand, and that was what made them dangerous. They attacked by enveloping and asphyxiating their victims, and since all there was to them was that sand, there was nothing to attack to fend them off. They only feared bright light, and retreated from it when it was presented to them.
The night passed without incident, and they began again that morning, moving quickly yet carefully in a straight line to the west. They crossed over three separate trails left behind by Trolls that morning alone, as the huge brutes patrolled the desert during the cooler period of the morning. But they saw none of the Trolls that morning, nor during their brief stop to rest during the full midday heat.
They did see Trolls during the afternoon, but they were already dead. Tarrin and Denai moved through a small battlefield carefully, a place littered with twelve dead Troll corpses. All of them had arrow sticking out of them, but they also showed signs of being killed with swords and spears. There were footprints that didn't belong to the Trolls on the battlefield, and Denai grinned at Tarrin knowingly when he realized that they were the soft-soled boots of the Selani.
"Selani, using bows?" Tarrin asked curiously. "I didn't think they'd do that."
"It's not dishonorable to use bows," Denai told him. "My people adapt to the situation. These big monsters require wearing them down from a distance before closing in for the kill. A bow and arrow can do that."
"I'm surprised they'd think of it. I'm surprised they had bows available."
"We're close to the humans," Denai shrugged. "Maybe this clan trades with them, and has bows. Maybe they use bows often."
"There's a hint of Druidic magic here," Sarraya announced. "I think a Druid is helping the Selani kill the Trolls."
Tarrin opened his senses, and then he too felt it. A faint trace of what had been Druidic magic, clinging to one of the Troll corpses. It had been killed with that magic. "I'll bet that Druid Conjured the bows for the Selani," Tarrin agreed.
"Our people honor the Watchers," Denai said. "If the Watcher told them to use bows, they would use bows."
"That's a smart thing to do," Sarraya laughed. "If anyone knows how to kill a Troll, it's a Druid. Druids hate Goblinoids nearly as much as the Were-kin do."
"It looks like my people are doing their best to make the Trolls feel as unwelcome as possible," Denai chuckled, standing up from her inspection of one of the corpses.
"I'm glad they're doing that. Knowing the Selani, they're luring the Trolls into ambushes. They may not be quite so willing to chase us down if they spot us, fearing it to just be another trap."
"We can hope," Sarraya said. "But if they see you, they're going to chase us down anyway," she told him.
"That can't be helped," he told her with a slash of his arm. "I can't move as fast in human form, and I'm not going to sacrifice any time. It takes alot less time to kill Trolls than it does for me to move in human form."
"I was just giving you options," Sarraya said.
They left the scene of the Troll massacre behind, continuing west. The Selani had been doing such a good job of annoying the Trolls that they saw no more of them that day. Denai speculated that her cousins here had all gathered together with the Druid and were finding and killing the Troll patrols, and most likely driving crazy whoever was sent to command the dull-witted brutes when entire patrols didn't return to report. Tarrin had to admire the bravery of the Selani, willing to take on vastly superior numbers of physically superior opponents. But living in an environment with such beasts as inu and kajat had made the Selani fearless when challenging much larger, stronger foes. Odds were that the Selani had engaged the Trolls, had learned their lessons-probably at a cost of several lives-then had adjusted their tactics to most efficiently kill off the invaders. He had no doubt that they'd sent word back to Gathering about the invasion, and the clan that lived in this territory was coming to eject the invaders. Until then, the sentries left behind were amusing themselves by torturing the invading force.
Sometimes he counted every lucky star there was that he'd been befriended by such a unique, formidable race.
That evening, as they made camp in a shallow dell surrounded by irregular boulders, Tarrin took the precaution of Warding the camp. It was too dangerous now, too close to the Trolls, and they had no concealment. So he raised a Ward to keep out the Sandmen, then covered the outside of it with an Illusion that made the interior of the Ward look empty. He set the Illusion so it would be sustained by the Ward-not an easy feat-then wove the Ward so tightly that it would take it two days to unravel. After that was done, he sat down by a faint light that Sarraya had created with her magic, joining his two female companions in a dreary meal of Conjured fruits and berries. There would be no fire that night, nothing to draw the Trolls to them.