"Wandering Wizard!"
An Yang heard Thorin shouting for him.
The river and the camp were about a hundred meters apart, and the moment he leaped out of the river surface, he could see the camp, as well as the Worg riders charging down from the mountain behind, and that huge pale figure standing on the edge of the cliff looking down—
Azog the Defiler!
The dwarves had already picked up their weapons and stood beside their warhorses, waiting in full battle array, with only him left to go.
An Yang hurriedly accelerated, ran into the camp, vaulted onto a horse, and galloped toward the forest below.
The dwarves were a step ahead of him, running slightly in front of him, weaving haphazardly through the forest. Only Thorin dared to look back, staring at the figure on the cliff with eyes filled with hatred.
"Kili!" An Yang shouted.
"Here!" Kili immediately unhitched one of the two battle bows from his side, slowed his horse's pace, added a quiver, and tossed it to him.
An Yang strapped the quiver to his back, tightened the straps, rode almost neck-and-neck with Kili, nocked an arrow, drew the bow to a full moon, and without even looking, spun around and loosed an arrow.
"Swish... Thwack!"
An Orc tumbled down from a Worg.
At the same time, another piercing sound rang out nearby, and an arrow buried itself in the forehead of the nearest Worg.
The two exchanged a glance and continued to pour out firepower to the rear.
Yet the road conditions in the forest were poor, and it was a downhill slope besides. Horses carrying riders were prone to slipping while moving through, and with the Worg cavalry following so closely, the consequences would be unthinkable if anyone took a tumble! Furthermore, horses were