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south, toward the distant land of Trod, but a sudden change of direction saw it fly west and, ultimately, north. At length, the ocean gave way to dry land. In its turn, the land became jungle.
    Carafat sprawled in every direction, home to more dangerous species than Grinswood and Rintintetly combined. It was rumored that a vast city existed far beneath the jungle. Then again, in Illmoor, there were rumors about everything.
    The raven glided for a time, turning west again before coming to land on a rocky outcrop on the edge of the trees. It hopped along the boulder on which it had landed, cawed a few times and then waited.
    A lone figure appeared on the fringe of the jungle. It looked like a goblin, but was a good deal smaller and possessed of a nose that was at least twice as big as a goblin’s. Its entire skin looked as though it had been dripped on and melted down. Everything appeared to be … glutinous.
    Burnie waddled over to the ravensage and unclipped the scroll from its leg. Unfurling the parchment, he began to read:
Burnie,
    Danger worse than at first imagined. A dark god has arisen in Dullitch, presumably the result of the impostor’s wicked wranglings. He calls himself Vanquish, commands dragons and has the power to turn men into mindless gravewalkers. Groan Teethgrit has become a vessel for the fiend, who inhabits the warrior’s body. We must sadly report that Nazz, our true friend, has fallen in battle. Thanks to his courage, we have escaped the city in a ship belonging to Earl Visceral. We are hoping to travel to Spittle, meet with the earl and secure his support in some way. The capital must be reclaimed.
    Your loyal servants, Spatula, Quickstint and Obegarde
    THE SECRET ARMY OF DULLITCH
    Burnie sighed and looked back toward the jungle.
    Desperate situations call for desperate measures , he thought.
    “You failed me.”
    Vanquish rose from his throne and descended the steps. Gordo and Gape were kneeling on the flagstones before him, their heads bowed in shame.
    “A second chance, lord,” said the spirit inhabiting Gordo, obviously uncomfortable with the voice it now possessed. “Give us a second chance.”
    “Please, lord,” added Gape’s soul-occupier. “Just one more chance.”
    Vanquish said simply: “No.”
    He lowered his hands and two bolts of energy settled on the heads of both warriors. The energy changed color from red to blue and back again. Then the humbled pair re-opened their eyes.
    Vanquish smiled through Groan’s teeth.
    “The last two failed me,” he boomed. “You will prove yourselves infinitely better souls, I am sure. Now leave me in peace.”
    The warriors bowed their heads once more, then rose and departed the room.
    Vanquish waited for a time, then dropped to Groan’s knees and began to concentrate his thoughts.
    Dragons. My very own creatures … my first creations. Hear me. Now.
    We hear, dark lord. Command us.
    You must remain on the gates.
    We hear, and obey.
    Good. I need more of your kind.
    There are no more of us left. We … are the last.
    I need more.
    There are none.
    If not here: where?
    In the otherworld … maybe … but most of the kin are lost …
    Then I will open the gate and draw them forth.
    As you wish.
    Vanquish shifted his attention to a dark, shadowy corner of the throne room, and began to mumble an incantation.
    A pocket of energy materialized in the space, swirling around as the force of the magic made it grow.
    Vanquish increased the intensity of the spell, raising his hands and shaping the doorway as it developed.
    Dragons in the depths. Hear me now. I command you: come forth.
    There was no reply, in thought or tone.
    HEAR ME NOW! I COMMAND YOU TO COME FORTH!
    Nothing.
    Vanquish sighed. It was as he feared; he would have to take Illmoor by a far more circuitous route.
    He rose to his feet and marched determinedly from the chamber.
    The dark portal began to disintegrate behind him, fading from the room like a half-imagined mist … but before it