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Troll Hunter
In a world ravaged by endless war between humans and trolls, Gabriel Cullen, a grizzled hunter gifted with the rare ability to track by scent, is captured by the very creatures he hunts.
Bound both by his captors’ chains and by an ancient prophecy, Cullen glimpses a chance to end centuries of bloodshed—if he can trust the trolls who butchered his kin. When a sinister force from the deep dark threatens both sides, and even trolls tremble at its approach, the tracker is forced to question everything he believes.
Unaware of her father’s changes in hearts, his daughter, Isabo, a fierce warrior driven by duty and vengeance, vows to rescue him, leading an army that wields a devastating new weapon to crush the troll clans. Yet her quest risks igniting a deadlier war. As Cullen allies with a young troll warrior and a blind shaman to confront a demonic evil from a forgotten age, both father and daughter face wrenching choices between peace and betrayal.
In a land where hope is fragile and blood stains every blade, their sacrifices will forge a new world—or shatter it forever. Troll Hunter is a raw, gripping saga of loyalty, loss, and the brutal cost of survival.
Bound both by his captors’ chains and by an ancient prophecy, Cullen glimpses a chance to end centuries of bloodshed—if he can trust the trolls who butchered his kin. When a sinister force from the deep dark threatens both sides, and even trolls tremble at its approach, the tracker is forced to question everything he believes.
Unaware of her father’s changes in hearts, his daughter, Isabo, a fierce warrior driven by duty and vengeance, vows to rescue him, leading an army that wields a devastating new weapon to crush the troll clans. Yet her quest risks igniting a deadlier war. As Cullen allies with a young troll warrior and a blind shaman to confront a demonic evil from a forgotten age, both father and daughter face wrenching choices between peace and betrayal.
In a land where hope is fragile and blood stains every blade, their sacrifices will forge a new world—or shatter it forever. Troll Hunter is a raw, gripping saga of loyalty, loss, and the brutal cost of survival.
- GenresFantasy
340 pages, Paperback
Published August 25, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
February 19, 2026
Upon completion of this book, which is fantastic, I decided to find out more about Steven Vickers, the author whose words had so entranced me. So I put on my travelin' shoes and began the arduous trek from the remote mountain monastery, where I was studying the ancient art of converting the life force of soybean pods into cherry blossoms in order to surprise my wife, whose smile alone can sustain my mortal shell for at least a decade, into town. After a long and perilous journey, the details of which can be found in chapter 47 of my memoirs, I found myself on the outskirts of town.
My travels had caused me to become wearied and parched, so I asked for, and was subsequently given, directions to the nearest inn. Once I had washed the dust of the trail from my weary body and had partaken in a delightful repast of the local fare, I asked the proprietor of the establishment where I might find Mister Vickers. "Welp," he drawled "ay reck'n if'n yous'll jus sit an wait a spell he's'll'be show'n up in'is own time" and then he spat his chaw into a spitoon across the room with the precision only possessed by one who had earned the certificates proudly displayed on the wall that declared him to be the 39 consecutive time and currently reigning county Baccy Joose Lawnchin Champeen.
Offered no other choice and unaware of what length of time was equivalent to "a spell", I settled in to wait. Hours turned into days.Days turned into weeks.Weeks turned into months.Months turned into years. Finally, after five years, four months, three weeks, two days, and one hour, I began to hear the townsfolk whispering in hushed reverence to each other. It was inaudible, but when I remembered the training I had received at the monastery and centered my core, it was as if they were shouting "The Lettersmith is coming".
Having never heard this term, I asked Jeremiah, the town's baker, with whom I had become friends, what a "Lettersmith" was. Taken aback, as if I had asked why cherry Kool-Aid rained from the sky every Thursday afternoon, which I did still occasionally wonder about, as I had never received a satisfactory answer and had just resigned myself to staying indoors when it was going to occur, he replied "That's be one'a them's that be mak'n alls them fancy words fer'them cityfolk."
It was then he appeared in the distance, exactly like a shadow when there's no light. Slinking through the well-lit darkness like a wolf wearing cat's pajamas. I must admit, I felt the trepidation in my soul, building like a fire that was never lit. I was about to turn and flee when he appeared before me, as threatening in his silence as a beaver with a pair of chopsticks. "What?" He demanded. "What do you want that is so freaking important that you waited around here for over five years to talk to me about?" The tone of his voice ringing with an underlying current of impatience that can only occur when someone is pestered near constantly by people wondering when the next book in their series will be published.
Stunned, I fell to my knees in awe and, after what seemed like an eternity, finally managed to stammer "Teach me great Lettersmith. Impart upon me thy great wisdom that I may one day be worthy of touching the velcro on your stylish tennis shoes." He impaled me with his fierce gaze and another eternity passed and with the finality of a star going supernova said "Yeah, alright, whatever. You better keep up though because I'm not waiting." then turned and started walking back the way he came.
Unwilling to lose this opportunity, I abandoned my possessions and followed at a respectful distance until we reached his castle made from a single continuous uncarved piece of snowlake obsidian. It was as if he had willed it into existence, so flawless was its beauty, and I still feel a bit faint when I imagine it all these years later. What followed, over the next few months, can only be described as me doing all the chores he had neglected for years. Every time I completed one thing, he had me start on another, so he could "focus on making a proper lesson plan", but finally the day came when the lesson plan was completed. That night I slept restlessly, excited beyond belief that the goal of my long journey was about to be realized.
The next morning dawned with a brilliance that made me completely forget about my Nintendo Switch, which I had abandoned in town, to follow this genius and gain the wisdom to begin my life anew. After a simple, yet nourishing, breakfast, Steven took me to a secluded glade where we sat in silent meditation for an hour. "Let us begin," he said, in a sonorous tone. As I sat in silence, every hair on my arms was standing fully upright in anticipation of the glorious new wisdom about to be poured into the anxiously awaiting vessel of my soul—he began. "Let's start at the very beginning," he intoned and rhythmically continued, "It's a very good place to start. When you read you begin with A-B-C, when you sing you begin with," he blinked and continued, "Well that's irrelevant because I'm not going to teach you how to sing."
About twenty minutes later, having mastered the alphabet, I returned to town, gathered the few belongings that hadn't been claimed and left with a new lease on life. I thank you for your patience, as you followed my footsteps on the journey that resulted in me telling you that this book is worth buying and you should probably do that now.
It has trolls.
There is hunting.
What more could you possibly need to know before you make the decision to make the purchase?
The answer is: Nothing!
My travels had caused me to become wearied and parched, so I asked for, and was subsequently given, directions to the nearest inn. Once I had washed the dust of the trail from my weary body and had partaken in a delightful repast of the local fare, I asked the proprietor of the establishment where I might find Mister Vickers. "Welp," he drawled "ay reck'n if'n yous'll jus sit an wait a spell he's'll'be show'n up in'is own time" and then he spat his chaw into a spitoon across the room with the precision only possessed by one who had earned the certificates proudly displayed on the wall that declared him to be the 39 consecutive time and currently reigning county Baccy Joose Lawnchin Champeen.
Offered no other choice and unaware of what length of time was equivalent to "a spell", I settled in to wait. Hours turned into days.Days turned into weeks.Weeks turned into months.Months turned into years. Finally, after five years, four months, three weeks, two days, and one hour, I began to hear the townsfolk whispering in hushed reverence to each other. It was inaudible, but when I remembered the training I had received at the monastery and centered my core, it was as if they were shouting "The Lettersmith is coming".
Having never heard this term, I asked Jeremiah, the town's baker, with whom I had become friends, what a "Lettersmith" was. Taken aback, as if I had asked why cherry Kool-Aid rained from the sky every Thursday afternoon, which I did still occasionally wonder about, as I had never received a satisfactory answer and had just resigned myself to staying indoors when it was going to occur, he replied "That's be one'a them's that be mak'n alls them fancy words fer'them cityfolk."
It was then he appeared in the distance, exactly like a shadow when there's no light. Slinking through the well-lit darkness like a wolf wearing cat's pajamas. I must admit, I felt the trepidation in my soul, building like a fire that was never lit. I was about to turn and flee when he appeared before me, as threatening in his silence as a beaver with a pair of chopsticks. "What?" He demanded. "What do you want that is so freaking important that you waited around here for over five years to talk to me about?" The tone of his voice ringing with an underlying current of impatience that can only occur when someone is pestered near constantly by people wondering when the next book in their series will be published.
Stunned, I fell to my knees in awe and, after what seemed like an eternity, finally managed to stammer "Teach me great Lettersmith. Impart upon me thy great wisdom that I may one day be worthy of touching the velcro on your stylish tennis shoes." He impaled me with his fierce gaze and another eternity passed and with the finality of a star going supernova said "Yeah, alright, whatever. You better keep up though because I'm not waiting." then turned and started walking back the way he came.
Unwilling to lose this opportunity, I abandoned my possessions and followed at a respectful distance until we reached his castle made from a single continuous uncarved piece of snowlake obsidian. It was as if he had willed it into existence, so flawless was its beauty, and I still feel a bit faint when I imagine it all these years later. What followed, over the next few months, can only be described as me doing all the chores he had neglected for years. Every time I completed one thing, he had me start on another, so he could "focus on making a proper lesson plan", but finally the day came when the lesson plan was completed. That night I slept restlessly, excited beyond belief that the goal of my long journey was about to be realized.
The next morning dawned with a brilliance that made me completely forget about my Nintendo Switch, which I had abandoned in town, to follow this genius and gain the wisdom to begin my life anew. After a simple, yet nourishing, breakfast, Steven took me to a secluded glade where we sat in silent meditation for an hour. "Let us begin," he said, in a sonorous tone. As I sat in silence, every hair on my arms was standing fully upright in anticipation of the glorious new wisdom about to be poured into the anxiously awaiting vessel of my soul—he began. "Let's start at the very beginning," he intoned and rhythmically continued, "It's a very good place to start. When you read you begin with A-B-C, when you sing you begin with," he blinked and continued, "Well that's irrelevant because I'm not going to teach you how to sing."
About twenty minutes later, having mastered the alphabet, I returned to town, gathered the few belongings that hadn't been claimed and left with a new lease on life. I thank you for your patience, as you followed my footsteps on the journey that resulted in me telling you that this book is worth buying and you should probably do that now.
It has trolls.
There is hunting.
What more could you possibly need to know before you make the decision to make the purchase?
The answer is: Nothing!
December 22, 2025
Awesome book. Believable characters, strong action sequences and a plot that makes sense without giving too much away. I can't wait for the sequel.
October 31, 2025
it was good but lacked world building that i would have liked.
January 6, 2026
As a man trying to find adventure fantasy books worth reading, I found myself enjoying this one. It is clean, has a good father and family relationship, though with tragedy. It has a unique story line and ideas. Some scenes are a little brutal or at least, it does not shy away from the harshness of life, especially trolls. The characters are not 'do everything perfectly' heroes, yet likable overall.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews