Chapter 123: Letu's Wolf Riders

"Damn it! It's a pack of wolves!" Tom’s face drained of color as he shouted urgently, "Everyone, fall back to the campfire—and don't forget to bring Viss!"

Dick hurriedly scooped up the unconscious lizardfolk prince and retreated toward the fire, casting a wary gaze toward the dense woods where the howling originated. With the help of Roger, Gray, and Jamie, Joann calmed the horses, which were agitated by the howls, and led all five to the safety of the campfire.

Wolves were the most common beasts in the mountain forests near their rural town, and since childhood, they had been taught a fundamental rule of wilderness travel: wolves were naturally afraid of fire. When attacked by a pack, building a fire and staying close to it was the safest course of action.

However, these country boys soon discovered that the wisdom of their elders had its limits. The vicious wolves in the jungle seemed unbothered by the flames, emerging from the trees one after another to surround them. Even more unsettling was the fact that these beasts wore saddles. At first glance, the riders appeared to be goblins, but they were taller and more robust. While they did not quite reach the stature of "bugbears," their orderly movements and cold, ruthless eyes made Joann suspect they were far more dangerous.

"They’re hobgoblin warg riders, the elite force under Letho’s command!" Roger’s voice trembled, betraying his fear.

Hobgoblins are a subspecies of goblinoid. Though they resemble larger, stronger goblins, their nature is vastly different. Both in combat prowess and intelligence, hobgoblins far outstrip their common kin. More importantly, they value order and violence, understanding the importance of discipline and cooperation, which makes them ideal for training as ruthless warriors.

If a hobgoblin realizes they lack the strength to become a tyrant themselves, they take pride in serving a powerful, ambitious one. It was no surprise that Letho, the ruler of the Screaming Forest goblin clans, was a hobgoblin, and that his high-ranking officers and elite troops were of the same breed. To a hobgoblin, bugbears are useful heavy muscle, while common goblins—in their eyes, these scrawny, wretched cousins are worth even less than human slaves with specialized skills, serving as nothing more than cheap cannon fodder.

There were at least twenty hobgoblin riders surrounding Joann’s group, all clad in black leather armor, swords at their waists, longbows hung by their saddles, and quivers slung across their backs. The leader wore a large red cloak over his pitch-black armor. As the night wind whipped the fabric, it emitted a thick, metallic stench—there was no doubt the glaring crimson cloak had been dyed in blood.

The hobgoblin captain flicked the hem of his cloak and spurred his unusually large warg forward. He scanned Joann and the others one by one with the eyes of a cat playing with mice, then sneered and issued a proclamation in standard Common.

"In the name of Zarf the Throat-Slitter, captain of the guard under Lord Letho, I command you to drop your weapons and kneel in surrender immediately! Those who resist will be shown no mercy!"

"Bah! Who do you think you are? I’ll smash your arrogant, ugly face in with my hammer!" The hot-headed dwarf spat at Zarf and charged, warhammer raised.

Zarf watched the dwarf with contempt and raised a hand. Behind him, the warg riders drew their bows in perfect unison, unleashing a dense volley of arrows at Tom.

Tom blocked the arrows with his shield, stumbling back and cursing, "Damn cowards! You call yourselves knights?"

Dick and Gray rushed in from both sides of the dwarf to share the pressure. Roger raised his gun, aimed at Zarf, and pulled the trigger, determined to take down the enemy leader. Unfortunately, the hobgoblin captain was unexpectedly alert; he tilted his head slightly to dodge the whistling lead bullet, then drew a white-fletched arrow that pulsed with magical energy from his quiver, drawing the bowstring taut and firing.

The enchanted arrow shrieked through the night air and buried itself in the center of the roaring campfire. As it touched the flames, it exploded with a loud *bang*, spewing a deluge of liquid that instantly extinguished the fire, plunging the forest clearing into darkness.

Human eyes struggle to see in such low light, but hobgoblins, possessing natural darkvision, were unaffected. Captain Zarf was pleased with the advantage he had created and waved his hand with a sneer: "Cut them down!"

The hobgoblin riders shouted in unison, urging their wargs forward with swords drawn.

The people in the camp were not entirely helpless. Tom the dwarf, Jamie the winter wolf half-breed, and Gray the bag-beast all possessed night vision and managed to hold their ground. The Tyndall brothers were in the worst position; Dick could barely see the enemies, so he held his shield high to protect his younger brother, Roger, blocking arrows by instinct alone, though both brothers were soon bleeding.

Joann quickly pulled back his hood and retreated toward the campfire. While his left eye was no different from a normal person's, the deformed eyeball at the base of his neck could see through the dark—a hallmark of his "aberrant bloodline."

Joann had often felt inferior because of his bloodline and that grotesque eye, but on this night, fraught with peril, that very eye would save his life and the lives of his companions. Relying on the night vision provided by the eye on his neck, Joann navigated the flashing blades unscathed, tossed a piece of glowing moss onto the extinguished fire, and chanted a spell to summon light.

"Anar!"

The faint glow of the moss intensified tenfold under the amplification of his magic, turning into a bright sphere of light that hovered above the damp firewood. Its gentle radiance radiated outward, dispelling the forest darkness and restoring fairness to the battlefield.

Dick and Roger, seeing their surroundings clearly in the light, hurried toward Joann. But just as they took a step, two "dark clouds" flew in from behind and settled over them.

The brothers were caught off guard as the hobgoblin riders threw "beast-nets" over them. They tumbled to the ground, and the harder they struggled, the tighter the sinew-woven nets pulled.

Zarf put his little finger to his mouth and whistled. The riders behind him threw their nets in succession. Poor Tom was soon cocooned by two nets, lying stiff on the ground like a mummy, unable to even struggle.

Jamie managed to dodge the nets with his agility, hissing and spitting white mist as he glared at the wargs. Gray, relying on his raw strength, tore the net covering his head, uprooted a small tree, and roared as he charged at Zarf. However, before he could reach the captain, he was intercepted by six warg riders brandishing broadswords, forcing him into a desperate struggle against the six.

Joann was also ensnared, but his enchanted dagger was sharp enough to slice through the net and escape. Yet, before he could catch his breath, he felt a foul, hot gust of air behind him, and the hair on his arms stood on end.