So that was our prep process, more or less. Hostilities were under way, so there wasn’t much else I could do. At this point, we had to stick to the plan.
I wasn’t convinced the fence was strong enough to hold, but fortunately, the direwolves couldn’t grab hold of it long enough to do much. The traps mostly sprang just as I’d planned. That was a relief.
Anticipating this, I had ordered small slits built into the fence at regular intervals. Those openings were for arrows so the goblins could attack from the inside and interfere with the enemy’s movements. They opened fire, and even with their crappy aim, they made more than a few direwolves scream their last. A few of the enemy force tried to pry the spaces open and break in that way…only to have their heads caved in by the stone-ax-wielding goblins on either side of each hole.
Two hours wasn’t nearly enough practice time, but this village was playing for keeps. They listened to everything I said, understood it, and took action. And we were reaping the rewards. The wolves were strong, yes, capable of taking on a gaggle of goblins at once, and maybe they were even stronger as a pack. But if they were powerful solo, we could just strike ’em all together. If they were powerful as a team, we’d make sure they couldn’t team up. Use your head, and you can make it work. The strongest creature in the world, after all, is a human being with a little intelligence!
Your luck just ran out, I thought to myself as I stared into the cold eyes of the direwolf boss. Some stupid animal beating me? How conceited can you get?
✦ ✦ ✦
The confused direwolf alpha was shocked at how far awry his plans had gone.
His pack was beginning to fall into disarray. That couldn’t be allowed to continue. The direwolf tribe shone its brightest only when grouped together. Mistrust in the alpha would lead to fatal results. He understood that, too—and that was why he then made his greatest mistake of all. He was enraged at the weakness of his pack, unable to overcome a simple fence, but he was even more afraid that his team’s frustration would soon be directed at him.
I need to display my strength to them, he thought. I am the strongest of my pack. I am more than strong enough, even by myself!
That was the moment when everything was decided.
✦ ✦ ✦
My eyes were still firmly upon the direwolf boss. To the goblins, he had disappeared, I assumed, but to me, he was ambling along at a yawn-worthy pace.
Everything was going to plan. I had considered a few possible outcomes, and now one of them was playing out in front of me. These were animals, after all. Not ex-humans like me.
The Sticky Thread over the entryway immediately captured the boss. For all I knew, the silk wouldn’t be enough to keep a direwolf leader stuck tight. There’d been no way to test it beforehand, but that didn’t matter anymore. The Sticky Thread was there just so we could keep the boss in place for a single moment.
If I didn’t hold him in place and he dodged the ensuing Water Blade attack, that would look super lame. Or worse, I could catch my team in friendly fire. In the midst of a battle, that was entirely possible.
That was why I devised the trap. But maybe I over-engineered it a little. These guys hadn’t even gotten the fence down yet. I’d considered lining the entrance with Steel Thread instead but opted against it, worried that it wouldn’t be enough of a final blow.
In situations like these, it was my job to play the ultimate strongman, the ruler of the roost. That was what all this was for—and that’s why, without another moment of self-doubt, I launched a Water Blade at the boss’s head.
It hit home. The head launched upward, and then gravity took it. I had killed the boss—and more importantly, I made it look like a laugh.
“Listen, direwolves! Your leader is dead! I will grant you one final choice. Submit to me or die!”
So how will they deal with that? Will their boss’s death drive them into such a frenzy that they’ll bum-rush me? I’d like to avoid that, if I could.
The remaining direwolves showed no sign of moving. Uh-oh. This isn’t gonna be one of those “I’d sooner die than submit to the likes of you!” things, is it? ’Cause if it is, it’s gonna be all-out war. We were still losing numbers-wise, and we’d definitely take some casualties. We made it this far without any goblin blood—I doubted we’d lose at this point, but I’d prefer it ended without a struggle.