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  He held his breath just in case.

  He couldn’t check his pocket watch in the dark, but to Gork it seemed that at least ten minutes had passed with both his hands holding the fate of his people. He estimated he stil had two or three

  minutes of air before he passed out.

  Then a deep thrumming sounded through the vent pipe.

  The horns!

  The orcs had arrived.

  Gork told his fingers to let go of the rope, but the muscles seemed to be knotted and frozen.

  Slowly, his aching, frozen fingers cracked open and the braided cord slashed down through his

  fingers and disappeared into the machinery below.

  Clanking sounds began, and a moment later, Gork was thrust upward with a face full of sloppy

  snow, through fragments of wood, and rocky debris until he emerged at the top of a rising pil ar

  right in the middle of an army of orcs.

  By Gork’s side, a steel cord passed over a pulley on the tower, rising with the structure as it

  emerged from the snowy landscape below.

  This was just the first phase—pulling the buried cable free of the ground.

  High above, in a secured room along the ridge, winches whirred, rapidly taking up the slack in

  the wire as it was lifted clear of the snow.

  Gork turned to see the end of the wire disappear into a crevice only a hundred yards away on

  the downhil side. Once the cable was taut, it would lift free of the tower, and Gork could slide to

  safety.

  A thrown spear narrowly missed Gork’s neck.

  That got his blood hot fast. He seized the wire with his hand and rose slowly with it as the cable

  came taut.

  The tower beneath Gork rang with the sounds of orcs three times his size pummeling the

  scissor jack linkages. If the tower fel , Gork would be hanging twenty feet over the orcs’ heads—a

  hanging duck.

  Motion on the ridge drew Gork’s eye.

  Like dew drops fal ing down a thread, one by one, the dwarven guards took to the cable with

  their oiled bearing harnesses.

  In moments, Hearthsworn Dwarves armed with powerful multi-bolt crossbows would be

  hurtling past on the cable zip line. Each would get several shots, and these were royal guards. They

  rarely missed.

  The tower lurched and began to descend. With the cable taut, it made sense to ratchet it down so the orcs couldn’t climb up to hack at the cable. That left Gork with a problem. He needed a way

  to slide down the cable, or he was going to get knocked off by the first dwarf to arrive.

  Gork quickly pulled off his belt, only to have his trousers fal to his knees.

  Great gravy!

  He hastily looped the belt over the cable and began to slide slowly toward the cliff wall on the

  opposite side of the canyon ravine, keenly aware of the fact that he was mooning several hundred

  orcs, al wielding sharp weapons.

  This turned out to be a grand distraction from the real attack, and his hide was only spared by

  an orc scout who shouted frantical y, pointing up the slope to the rapidly approaching dwarves. As

  he picked up speed over the ice falls of the canyon stream below, Gork looked back to see the first

  wave of cable-sliders glide into range. The dwarves on the zip line had ample time to pick their

  targets from among the scattering orcs. In quick succession, they fired wel -aimed bolts at the

  enemy. But the orcs, with their bulky spears, swords, and axes, were unable to track the fast-moving

  dwarves. And the loose snow and ice from the avalanche hampered their escape.

  The orcs’ attempts to cut the braided steel wire were equally useless. Their weapons merely

  missed completely or bounced off.

  The screams of the enemy were all Gork could hear until a voice behind him bel owed a sharp,

  “Look out below!”

  He wasn’t going to make it to the safety of the cave before the archers caught up to him.

  With another prayer to the Goddess, Gork let go of one side of his belt and fel twenty feet into

  a snow bank as the first dwarf on his sliding harness hurtled past. Pulling himself and his trousers

  free of the snow, Gork secured his breeches and climbed quickly to the cave entrance.

  At last, the shrieks and grunts cal ing for retreat sounded through the thin alpine forest and the

  orcs fled in droves.

  He nodded approvingly.

  Disaster averted.

  From nearby, where the descending guards were unbuckling their harnesses, Gork heard his

  name. It was Hamdrel, captain of the palace guard. “Three cheers for Gork Moon-Orc!”

  Gork’s face boiled with instant embarrassment.

  . . . disaster almost averted.

  Want more?

  Get the ful story here!

  https://www.futurehousepublishing.com/super-dungeon-series/

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Mr. Sidwell, Emma Hoggan, Ashlin Awerkamp, Sydnie Brewster, M.R. James, and

  Melissa Parker West.

  About the Author

  David J. West writes dark fantasy and weird westerns because the voices in his head won’t be

  quiet until someone else can hear them. He is a great fan of sword and sorcery, ghosts, and lost

  ruins, so of course, he lives in Utah with his wife and children.

  Document Outline

  Super Dungeon Series

  Contents

  MAP

  Chapter 1: The Trap

  Chapter 2: The Mission

  Chapter 3: The Shortcut

  Chapter 4: The Spirit Path

  Chapter 5: The Moor

  Chapter 6: The Will-o’-Wisp

  Chapter 7: The Camp

  Chapter 8: The Witch Wealds

  Chapter 9: Stilt Town

  Chapter 10: Battle

  Chapter 11: The Sunken Tower

  Chapter 12: The Wizard

  Chapter 13: Von Drakk Manor

  Chapter 14: And Then There Were None

  Chapter 15: The Offer

  Chapter 16: The Gamble

  Chapter 17: The Rescue

  Chapter 18: The Mirror

  Chapter 1

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author