Biting and snapping, the two fiends clawed and scraped as they painted the room with each
other’s crimson. Both healed exceptional y fast from the wounds they sustained, but Sai knew that
eventual y their energies would wear down and only one could be victorious.
“We have to help him,” Sai shouted.
Citrine nodded and charged in with her longsword. She shouted her war cry and was batted
aside almost as quickly. Sai ported in behind Nocturne and made ready to plunge her daggers into
his back, but just as suddenly, the pair of monsters wheeled about, and she had to port away before
she accidental y stabbed Von Wilding. The two monsters slammed against the far wall.
Hatch made good on finishing the rest of the boneheads near him when he suddenly exclaimed,
“I thought there would be more? Where are they?”
“I’ve taken care of that,” said Ikalos as he strode through the doorway. “Oh, dear me,” he clicked as he noticed Nocturne and Von Wilding. “Anyway, I’ve cast a powerful turn spel that is
holding the rest of the skeletal warriors Von Drakk mustered at bay. For at least a time, it is left to only that which remains inside the manor.”
“Who’s this?” huffed Citrine.
Nocturne then threw Von Wilding away with a yelp from the werewolf. “I am done with you
all!” the monster cried.
“We’l see about that! Where is my sister?!” Citrine demanded as she again charged at him with
her sword. Sai took the opportunity to port behind to attack as Hatch and Marie too charged ahead.
Like a thunderclap, al of them slammed their weapons at the horrible vampire and even Von
Wilding picked himself up to attack.
Swords, daggers, arrows, and claws all sliced into the vampire lord. With a great wail, he threw
them al back, but the injuries were too much. He slumped to his knees and the horrific vampire bat
form of Nocturne withered. Von Drakk in his human form lay broken on the floor.
“Help me, oh Midnight Queen of darkness, help me,” he cried out. “Open the way for me.”
Dazed and confused, Sai picked herself up from the floor and saw Von Drakk crawling toward
a huge mirror against the wall. He was speaking to it as if it housed a doorway. A strange greenish
light came from the mirror, despite the gloom.
Citrine was the first to make it to her feet and chase after the vampire. She was also the first and
only one to see into the mirror.
She stopped cold and lowered her sword. She whispered a question Sai couldn’t quite make out,
but there was a look of joy and relief upon her face. Ignoring the stricken vampire at her feet, Citrine stepped into the mirror.
Hatch shouted for her to stop, but Citrine passed through the mirror and vanished.
Hatch dashed to follow his princess, only to have the mirror shatter into a mil ion pieces as he
neared.
Von Drakk cried out again, as if the broken mirror had pained him. He stumbled backward,
grasping onto the wall as he tried to flee back up the stairs past Ikalos. The curious wizard let him go past without so much as a look.
“Stop him!” shouted Hatch.
“What do you want me to do?” asked Ikalos with a shrug. “He’s a vampire lord, let him go
where he wants. Outside. He’ll get his. Trust me.”
Hatch cast him a dirty look and raced up the stairs.
“I’m on it,” Sai answered, porting up the stairs into the chamber above.
Von Drakk fled toward the open doorway. Hatch was up the stairs in a heartbeat, Von Wilding
and Marie close behind.
Sai was the first to reach the vampire and buried her daggers into his torso.
He cried out again and transformed into a bat, but this time not the hulking huge form of
Nocturne; this time it was the form of a smal vampire bat. Its wings flapped rapidly as it made to
escape out the door.
“It’s all right, he can’t go far now,” said Ikalos, slowly walking toward them.
“Cast a spell! Do something! We can’t let his evil escape!” yelled Von Wilding. “I’l not be
denied my justice!”
“Its fine,” said Ikalos leisurely. “It’s dawn, after all.”
And sure enough, just as Von Drakk’s tiny bat form flew out the door and across the porch, the
first rays of dawn came from across the horizon. The rosy pink light touched the dark vampire bat
skin and he shrieked loud enough to hurt Sai’s eardrums. The foul reek of sulphur and smoke fil ed
their nostrils and a loud pop sounded and the bat was gone.
“Is that it? Is it over?” asked Esmerelda.
“I think so,” said Hatch. “I don’t see any more boneheads or ghouls or zombies.”
“Without their master, al the foul things under Von Drakk’s dominion should melt away,” said
Ikalos.
Sai suddenly realized their little group was missing several members. Chev was gone, Sai
remembered with an ache, but Marie was also missing. She looked around, searching for the blonde.
She spotted her back inside the manor, hiding from the rising sun.
“I can’t go out there,” she said. “It’s far too bright. Like a mil ion suns are shining.”
Von Wilding went to her and walked inside. “I’ll stay with you until you can leave, and we can
al go home again.”
Marie wiped at her eyes. “I don’t know where my home could ever be now. I’m changed
forever. I’m one of those awful things now too.”
Von Wilding took her in his al -too-human arms. “Look at me. I have been cursed, but I choose
to use it for good. You can too.”
She looked at him with tears in her eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”
Sai found herself smiling too and looked to Hatch. He was frowning. “I’ve lost them,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I have to go back to King Jasper and tel him I failed.”
“You didn’t fail. We won here today,” Sai said.
Hatch shook his head. “We had Citrine and lost her. I can’t understand why she would run into
that portal. She must’ve seen whoever took Amethyst and rushed in to confront them without
waiting for the rest of us.” He ran his hand over his face. “I should have stopped her.”
“There was nothing any of us could do.”
Hatch didn’t hear her. “It had to be someone powerful or Von Drakk wouldn’t have called to
the Midnight Queen.”
“Who knows,” lamented Sai. “But stil , we have ended the evil of Von Drakk, and that must
count for something.”
He nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re right, it does count for something. Soon as
they’re able to travel, we need to get back to the king and quick.”
“I’m sure I can help with that,” said Ikalos, rubbing his chin. “I just need to remember that
traveling spell.”
Sai laughed, suddenly giddy that it was al over. She and her comrades had accomplished so
much, and it al felt unreal somehow.
She watched as the sky was stained with pinks and purples more beautiful than any sunrise she
could remember.
They had lost much, even a few comrades along the way, but Sai found herself oddly grateful
that it al had happened. She turned away from the sunlit Moor and went to join her friends. Huh.
Friends. She smiled to herself. Didn’t see that coming.
Read al the books in the Super Dungeon Series!
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Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next book in the series,
The Dungeons of Arcadia
Chapter 1
Gork, crown prince of Dwarfholm Bastion, peered out of the surveil ance slot from the cavern
high on the cliff face. A thousand glints of sunlight sparkled from the snowy val ey below. The stark
beauty of the towering cliffs and frozen waterfalls was broken by a host of dark objects moving up
the canyon.
Gork furrowed his brow as he tracked the hundreds of Ravager orcs stomping their way
through the snow, heading for the ice barrier at the summit of Barrel Roll Pass.
From behind him, Gamfir, a dwarf three times Gork’s age, gave a grunt of concern. “They
aren’t stopping?”
Gork shook his head.
Something wasn’t right. Certainly by now the orcs knew that Dwarfholm Bastion was defended
by traps. The Dark Consul’s warlords would never commit that many orcs to battle unless . . . Gork
turned at the sight of motion off to his right. Farther up the perilously steep slope and scarcely
visible in the white haze of wind-driven snow that curled over the mountain ridge, a patrol of orc
scouts had reached a wind cornice. Already their axes were swinging as they cut into the icy barrier
that held back the weight of several weeks’ snow.
No, Gork thought. No! He motioned quickly for Gamfir.
“Look.” Gork pointed to the ridge. “That vanguard unit is going to trigger an avalanche to bury
our traps in the valley. The main force wil be able to approach the ice wall undeterred. In numbers
like that, the orcs wil crush the ice wall and have unfettered access to the terraces and towers in
Barrel Roll Pass.”
“They must have climbed the ridge in the storm,” Gamfir stammered. “We couldn’t have seen
them.”
Gork looked into Gamfir’s eyes, where for the first time he saw the grey uncertainty of fear.
Gamfir tugged anxiously at his beard. “Can we stop them?”
Gork surveyed the perilous glacial slope. It would take even experienced climbers an hour to
summit the ridge. “It’s too late.” His head spun. Al the careful plans, the traps, the patrols—
everything was failing. “Gamfir, we have to do something— now.”
“The attack on Foruk’s Fal s has drawn most of our men,” Gamfir warned. “We have only the
palace guard to hold off those orcs in the canyon.”
“Against that many—” Gork shook his head. “It’s suicide.” He checked his silver pocket watch
and tucked it back into his wel -tailored vest that did little to draw attention away from his
comparatively short, neck-length beard—far shorter than a typical belt-length beard. “I give us less than five minutes before the orc scouts trigger the avalanche. Then there’s no stopping the entire
horde from climbing right up the canyon.”
Gamfir lowered his dark-tinted spectacles. “Not since we joined with the freyjans to defeat The
Destroyer have we faced such a dangerous foe. But this level of cunning is beyond demons . . . my
heart tel s me we have a traitor.”
That possibility did nothing to settle the anxiety worming in Gork’s gut. The dwarf prince was
not as bulky as other Hearthsworn Dwarf warriors. Granted he was only fifty years old, and not
even a ful -grown adult. But his father was overseeing instal ation of defenses at the west buttress
and his brutish younger brothers had gone to free Foruk’s Fal s, leaving him to watch the booby-
trapped pass. He was the officer of the watch.
This battle was his responsibility.
“If we could only keep the avalanche from burying the trigger for the rigging.” Gamfir pressed
his fist into his palm. “We could take them by surprise from the skies.”
Gork had only a second to consider the near-impossible task of saving the trap. It would mean
reaching the base of the hil before the avalanche and somehow surviving the mountain of crushing
snow.
There was a slim chance, which meant a far greater chance his short life would come to an
abrupt end.
Gork considered the few notable accomplishments of the first half-century of his youth. The air
seemed to hang around him, the moment frozen as he weighed his own fate. If he perished, would
his family even miss him? Would his father simply be glad that one of his brutish younger brothers
had become the next in line for the throne? Or was this his moment, his chance to final y prove
himself?
There is no one else.
“Loyal to the light,” Gork whispered, his breath fogging on the chil air. “To the end.” He
turned to Gamfir, his strong hands forming into fists. “Order the palace guard to the top of the
winch. Have them suit up in the harnesses. Blow the war horns when the orcs reach the trigger
point. I will release the trap manually.”
“But the avalanche wil certainly destroy the trigger point at the hunting cabin. The trap wil be
sprung before the orcs are in range—it’s hopeless.”
“It’s never hopeless.” Gork lifted his ax. With the back end of the ax, the dwarf took three wel -
aimed swings, breaking large chunks of stone away from the surveil ance slot as if he was paring cuts
of roast boar. He traded the ax for a flat-bladed snow shovel, climbed into the crack, and squeezed
out into the breezy Frostbyte air.
“Gork—no!”
He leapt.
The first thirty feet passed in one and a half seconds. Gork gripped the shovel handle, placed
his feet in the scoop of the blade, and braced for impact. His momentum blasted him through the
deep snow like a bal from a gnomish musket.
Dusted from beard to boots in icy snow, Gork hurtled down the steep slope, his shovel
throwing up tal rooster tails to either side as he plummeted at a speed that scarcely differed from
free fal ing.
Gork’s fingers, strong from years of work in the forges beneath Dwarfholm Bastion, held the
shovel handle in a white-knuckled grip.
Snow blasted his eyes. And over the roaring of wind in his ears came a sound that sent a chil to
his very core.
CRACK.
Gork looked back to see the top of the ridge suddenly drop.
A dull rumble commenced as the sheet of sliding snow gathered momentum while Gork slid
directly into the fall line of the avalanche.
“Come on!” Gork screamed, bel owing a challenge to the mountain over his home.
Gork leaned back as he sailed off another drop-off and over a rocky chute between two tall
pines. He landed with another blast of powder snow.
In the corner of his vision, hundred-foot trees snapped like toothpicks, and boulders joined the
frothing wave as the force of the avalanche plowed over everything in its path, closing the distance
with frightening fury.
Gork navigated through the sparse trees, leaning to one side and the other as his shovel cut a
weaving path through the snow. He had to reach the trigger point at the cabin before the
avalanche—for his country and for his own life.
Gork spotted a thin trail of smoke rising through the trees.
The cabin.
He was almost there.
Gork’s momentum ran out as he came to a gentle incline. He leapt from the shovel and ran forward, plowing through the chest-deep powder as the unstoppable tidal wave of snow rushed up
behind him.
The trigger point was mad
e to look like a hunter’s cabin, further masked by smoke bearing the
scent of roasted meat piped in from a dwarven mess hal several hundred feet below.
The orcs could not resist the smel of meat, nor ignore the threat of an ambush from the cabin.
They would natural y attack without orders and trigger the rigging—a precisely timed trap. But the
cabin was about to be destroyed, and the trap would be triggered wel before the orcs climbing the
canyon would be in lethal range. Al would be wasted without the element of surprise. The orcs
could stop and hew wooden planks as shield wal s to block attacks from above and simply walk
under the trap.
The roar of the tidal wave of ice, debris, and snow thundered in Gork’s ears as he plunged
through the last few feet of snow and dove under the porch, avoiding the booby-trapped door.
The wave of snow hit like a molten mountain being dragged over him, drowning out al light.
As the mass of sliding snow broke up the cabin’s flooring, chil snow poured in around Gork,
leaving him with only a little wiggle room, which shrank by the second. His body was immobilized
in complete darkness under a groaning, shifting mass of snow. With both his hands, Gork clung to
the trigger rope. The strong downward pull of the rope told him there was nothing above him
keeping it from slipping into the ground and releasing the gears on the rigging.
The moment he let go, the trap would be sprung. But if he let go before the orcs were in
position, the surprise would be wasted.
Dwarfholm Bastion would fal .
With the weight of the survival of his entire people in his ice-covered hands, Gork prayed to the
Goddess of light, creator of al Crystalia.
Give me strength to hold!
He had to start digging out soon, or the snow, wet from its turbulent descent, would begin to
freeze, trapping him yards below the surface where there was precious little air to breathe.
But Gork had to wait for the war horn. He would not hear it from above, rather from below,
through the pipe from the mess hal . From nearby came the hissing of air escaping the shorn metal
piping of the geothermal vent. Gork wondered whether the warm air ascending through the pipe
would keep him alive or kill him with mine gas.
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