Mask of Power : Spyro Versus the Mega Monsters (9781101610954) Read online

  Kaos swept his arm through the air. “We can’t have that. Summon the refreshing healing rain of VIBRANT VITALITY!”

  Thunder rumbled above their heads and sweet-smelling rain started to fall. It splashed down on Spyro’s scales, washing off the toad spit.

  Beside Kaos, Stealth Elf stretched and yawned, waking to the feel of the cool water on her skin. She looked around, suddenly alert.

  “Spyro? What’s happening?”

  Spyro shook his head. “I honestly have no idea.”

  Stealth looked up to see Kaos standing above her. Instantly, she reached for her daggers, but Kaos didn’t even flinch. The Portal Master just sniffed at the beautiful orchid that was pinned to his lapel. Spyro hadn’t noticed it before. Another mystery. Kaos hated all things natural. Why would he wear a flower?

  “There’s nothing to fear,” Kaos said, smiling at Stealth—not a sneer or a leer, but what looked scarily like a genuine smile. “This is just the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  And with that, Kaos clapped his hands and Spyro found himself tumbling back into a Portal. Before he knew what was happening, he was standing in Eon’s citadel, staring at the expectant faces of Eon, Drill Sergeant, and Hugo.

  “Well,” prompted the Portal Master, as Stealth Elf materialized beside Spyro. “What happened?”

  “It’s Kaos,” began Stealth, and a shadow fell over her friends at the sound of their archenemy’s name.

  “I knew it!” shouted Hugo, his glasses steaming up in fury. “What has the fiend done now?”

  “Is he behind the monster attack?” Eon asked.

  “No,” said Spyro. “It’s worse than that.”

  “Did he attack you, sir?” fumed Drill Sergeant.

  Spyro shook his head.

  “You don’t understand. He saved us. Kaos has turned over a new leaf!”

  Chapter Six

  A CALL FOR HELP

  “Ugh,” moaned Spyro. “Three days of taking that stuff and it still doesn’t taste any better.”

  Eon smiled and pushed the cork back into the bottle of healing elixir.

  “The effects of the toad’s saliva were serious, Spyro. Kaos may have washed the majority off your scales, but much of the damage had already been done.” Eon tucked the smoky blue bottle back into his sleeve. “I shudder to think what would have happened to you and Stealth Elf if Kaos hadn’t arrived when he did.”

  Spyro stretched out his wings and gave them a few experimental flaps, rising gracefully from the floor. It may have tasted like troll dung, but Eon’s elixir was doing the trick. He felt stronger than ever.

  “It still doesn’t seem right,” Spyro said, dropping back to the stone slabs of the Portal chamber, “being saved by Kaos.”

  “Quite right, old chap,” agreed Jet-Vac, who was enjoying the warmth of the Core of Light against his gray feathers. “We save other people from him!”

  Eon sighed and gazed over at the stained glass windows that lined the room, lost in thought. “Perhaps it’s true. Perhaps he has decided to mend his ways.”

  Spyro gasped.

  “You can’t really believe that, Master?”

  Eon peered down sadly at his Skylander. The Portal Master was looking older than ever. “These days I don’t know what to believe.”

  “Master Eon! Master Eon!”

  Eon rolled his eyes at the sound of Hugo’s voice. Spyro glanced over to see the little librarian bumbling into the chamber.

  “Yes, Hugo. How can I help you?”

  “I need to speak to you, Master. It’s a matter of grave importance.”

  “Isn’t it always?” Eon shared a sideways smile with Spyro, before his face fell. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing.

  “I found something in the cellar, Master. Something that really shouldn’t be there. Something that—”

  Eon raised a hand, silencing Hugo instantly.

  “Something that will have to wait. Drill Sergeant is requesting a Portal.”

  Spyro looked up in surprise. “He’s finished his mission? Already?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Spyro and Jet-Vac scampered after Eon as he approached the Portal. Drill Sergeant had been sent to the Giggling Forest, a dense woodland where the trees laughed all day. However, they hadn’t found the appearance of a gigantic sheep so funny, especially when it started to munch its way through their leaves. Mega toads and now mega sheep. There had to be a connection.

  The Portal blazed into life and Drill Sergeant appeared in its center. He did not look happy. Hugo was the first to speak up.

  “Well, don’t just stand there. Were the rumors true? Was there really a…” the nervous Mabu’s voice failed him.

  Jet-Vac rolled his eyes. “Oh, good grief. Put the pip-squeak out of his misery, Drill Sergeant. Was there a monster sheep or not?”

  The bulldozer trundled off the platform, the light from the windows reflecting against his freshly repainted metal.

  “Bop-de-bop. Not exactly.”

  Hugo relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness for that. It’s bad enough that those bilious balls of walking wool are allowed to wander wherever they want. The thought of one the size of a small castle…well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” Spyro shook his head, preparing for another of Hugo’s rants. No one knew why, but Eon’s assistant hated sheep. Actually, that was an understatement. Hugo detested sheep. He abhorred them. If he had his way, they would be wiped off the face of Skylands. While everyone else knew they were just stupid creatures that existed only to graze on grass, Hugo believed they were planning to take over the universe. That was why Trigger Happy liked nothing better than to hide a sheep or two in Hugo’s wardrobe most weekends. The terrified Mabu’s screams could be heard three islands away.

  “Beep-be-beep. There wasn’t one giant sheep,” Drill Sergeant reported matter-of-factly.

  “Good.”

  “Boop. There were two!”

  “Two?” Hugo squeaked.

  “Two?” Hugo squealed.

  “TWO?” Hugo screamed as he ran full pelt from the Portal Chamber. Spyro suspected he was heading to hide under his bed. He also wondered what his reaction would be when he found the lamb that Trigger Happy had hidden under there earlier that day.

  Eon chuckled and turned his attention back to the Arkeyan bulldozer.

  “What happened, Drill Sergeant? Did you save the forest?”

  “Boop-bo-boop. I didn’t get a chance, sir,” Drill Sergeant replied, his gears grinding in frustration. “I was revving up for a power charge, ready to send the first mountain of mutton flying into next week, when he arrived.”

  “Who?”

  With a snarl, Spyro answered for Drill Sergeant. “Kaos.”

  “Be-beep. That’s right, sir.” Spyro hated it when Drill Sergeant called him sir. Not that he could help it. Thousands of years ago, Drill Sergeant had been constructed by the ancient Arkeyans to bore through their diamond mines. He had been programmed to obey orders. Today, as a valued member of the Skylanders, he was a free machine, answering to no one, but old habits die hard. “Appeared out of nowhere he did, sir, waved that new staff of his and the sheep vanished, just like that. When I left, the trees were on their thirteenth rendition of ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.’”

  “I keep hearing the same story from all over Skylands,” admitted Eon, stroking his beard. “Yesterday, I sent Eruptor to save Flowering Fields from a five-meter-long caterpillar, only to find that Kaos had chased off the gigantic grub.”

  “And don’t forget the colossal cockroach that was menacing Lucky Lagoon,” Jet-Vac added, his beak curling down in disgust. “Kaos had sent it scuttling long before Hex and Cynder arrived on the scene.”

  Eon nodded sadly. “It’s true. Whether we believe it or not, Kaos is rapidly becoming the hero of the hour.”

  “Well, I don’t believe it,” insisted Spyro. “Kaos is as evil as they come. This is a man who would give candy to a baby just so he could steal it back again.”

&
nbsp; “Spyro’s right.” Jet-Vac crossed his powerful arms across his chest. “That scoundrel wouldn’t know a good deed if one came up and bopped him on the nose. He really ruffles my feathers.”

  “And yet,” Eon pointed out, “it appears to be true. Perhaps we should accept that—”

  “Help! Help!”

  Uh-oh, Spyro thought. Hugo’s found the sheep beneath his bed. But the cry wasn’t coming from Hugo’s bedroom. It was coming from the Portal.

  Eon spun around and rushed back up the steps, placing his hand palm-down against the stone.

  “It’s coming from the Desert of Columns,” he said, focusing in on the cries.

  “The Desert of what, sir?” Drill Sergeant asked.

  Spyro knew exactly where Eon meant. “The Desert of Columns is a mysterious and ancient plain. It is covered with incredibly tall columns that stretch into the clouds.”

  “No one knows how high the columns reach,” Eon added. “Only one man has ever tried to climb them.”

  “Yes, but he disappeared from sight seventeen years ago,” Spyro recalled. “No one knows how far he got. People say they are never-ending.”

  “That may be true,” Eon said gravely, shifting his hand on the surface of the Portal. “But they are now under attack. Listen.”

  “It’s a monster!” cried the voice from the Portal. “A huge, hideous monster.”

  “We must help them,” Spyro cried out, spreading his wings, ready for action. Eon shook his head.

  “No, Spyro. You are not fully recovered. Drill Sergeant and Jet-Vac will go.”

  “Beep-beepity-beep. Of course, sir. I’ll leave immediately.”

  “You can count on us,” added Jet-Vac, drawing his vacuum gun. “Ready to fight beak and claw. Tallyho!”

  Spyro’s wings drooped. He couldn’t just sit back and rest while others needed help.

  “Please,” the voice pleaded. “Help us, Kaos. You’re our only hope.”

  Spyro felt his skin crawl at the sound of his archenemy’s name. Only hope, indeed. He shot a look at Eon, who sighed even as he activated the Portal.

  “Very well, you may go as well. Just please, be careful.”

  Spyro bounded into the light.

  Chapter Seven

  THE DESERT OF COLUMNS

  “Boop. Watch out, sir!”

  Spyro’s head snapped up to see a huge chunk of stone spinning through the air. It was heading toward the exact point at which Eon’s Portal had deposited them. He breathed in. Perhaps he could deflect it with a fireball?

  He didn’t need to. The lump of masonry exploded into dust just above their heads. Beside him, a thin wisp of smoke curled from the auto-blaster mounted on Drill Sergeant’s head.

  “Good shooting, Drills,” Spyro commented, impressed. He always liked working with the Arkeyan bulldozer. Nothing seemed to phase him.

  “Be-beep. Thank you, sir.”

  “Please don’t call me sir.”

  “Sorry, I’ll try to remember, sir.”

  Another slab of rock landed near them, sending up a plume of sand. Spyro threw up a paw to protect his eyes.

  “Heads up,” Jet-Vac cried out, pointing through the dust. “Someone’s coming.”

  Sure enough, a Molekin was running toward them, dodging falling rubble and waving his arms above his head in alarm.

  “Thank goodness you’ve come. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  Spyro recognized the voice. So this was who had called for help. Diggs had accompanied them on many of their adventures. Like all Molekin, he was hardworking, diligent, and, as he spent most of his time underground, wasn’t blessed with the best of eyesight.

  “Diggs,” Spyro called out, “don’t worry, we’re here now. Where is the monster?”

  The Molekin skidded to a halt, his face falling.

  “Oh, sorry. I couldn’t see who it was.” He pushed his thick glasses back up his nose. “I thought you were Kaos.”

  Spyro suppressed a snarl. “You sound disappointed.”

  “No, no, not at all,” insisted Diggs. “I’ve been helping with an archaeological dig of the entire area, or rather I was until that thing attacked the camp.”

  “Boop. What thing, sir?” asked Drill Sergeant.

  “I think he means that thing,” Jet-Vac answered, his beak hanging open as a shadow fell over them.

  It was huge. Bigger than any other creature Spyro had ever seen. Bigger even than the toad in the Stinky Swamp. It towered over them, silhouetted against the sun, but Spyro knew exactly what it was from the shape of its huge flapping ears.

  It was a troll. A massive, monstrous troll.

  And not any old troll. Spyro squinted his eyes against the sun’s glare. Ignoring the fact that this troll was larger than any troll ought to be, it was lanky, with great gangly legs and arms flailing around. Most trolls were squat little so-and-sos, but this one reminded him of someone. Someone he had last seen clutching a pair of shears.

  “Does that thing remind you of someone?”

  “Beep-be-be-beep. Not that I can tell, sir,” Drill Sergeant replied, while Jet-Vac trained his sights on the huge creature.

  “Does it matter?” the Air Skylander asked. “I’m more worried that it’s heading this way!”

  “Don’t you see?” Spyro urged. “It’s the spitting image of Glumshanks.”

  “Boop! Well, either he’s grown, sir, or we’ve shrunk!”

  The troll—whoever it was—stumbled forward. Instinctively, Spyro threw his wings over Diggs to protect the Molekin while Drill Sergeant and Jet-Vac took out the falling rubble with a volley of homing rockets and air blasts.

  “Oi! Watch where you’re firing those things. Waaaaaah!”

  Spyro looked up at the sound of the voice to see a thin man with a long white beard and dressed in climbing equipment tumble out of the sky. Drill Sergeant had also spotted the old man and spun around to catch him.

  “I don’t believe it,” yelled the elderly climber as he landed in Drill Sergeant’s arms. “Seventeen years I’ve been climbing that column. Seventeen years. I was nearly at the top!”

  “Such a shame when things don’t go according to plan, eh, Skylander?”

  Another new voice, this time to Spyro’s right. The dragon spun around to see Kaos standing on the stump of a nearby column, brandishing that scarlet staff of his. “Bet you thought you were going to save the day, dragonfly?” The bald Portal Master giggled. “Well, get in line, fools! This one’s mine!”

  Kaos lunged forward with his staff before nearly overbalancing and tumbling from his column. He let out a frightened squeak and wobbled precariously, arms windmilling, before regaining his balance. Beside Spyro, Jet-Vac couldn’t resist a snort of laughter. “Some hero,” he whispered. Kaos cleared his throat, straightened the orchid in his lapel, and tried again, thrusting his staff up toward the gigantic troll.

  “Stop in the name of KAOS!”

  The huge troll froze where it was, throwing his hands back in alarm.

  “Oh no,” it boomed. “It is that heroic and oh-so-handsome Kaos.” Something about its voice didn’t sound right. It was as if it was reciting a speech. Badly. “I’m doomed. Doomed, I tell you.”

  The troll took a step back, nudging another column with its shoulder. Debris rained down once again, this time taking out the stump that Kaos was perched on top of. The Portal Master let out a pathetic squawk and pitched forward, tumbling to the ground. For a split second, Spyro considered letting him land headfirst in the sand, before leaping forward. He was a Skylander. Doing such a thing would make him no better than Kaos himself. Or at least the old Kaos.

  Spyro leaped into the air, grabbing Kaos midplummet and lowering him to the ground.

  Kaos shrugged off Spyro’s claws, and turned on the huge troll, his face purple with fury.

  “What do you think you’re doing, you clodhopping imbecile?” he bellowed into the air. “You could have hit me!”

  “Sorry, Mast—” apologized the giant, before stopp
ing himself. “I mean, RARGH! I’m going to squash you beneath my feet!”

  Spyro gasped as the giant lifted one of its gargantuan feet and began to bring it down on top of them. He glanced around, making sure Drill Sergeant was out of trouble, but the bulldozer was still being berated by the furious climber. Jet-Vac was already swinging up his cannon, but Spyro knew that not even the Sky Baron’s vacuum blasts would stop something that big. It was up to him. Spyro felt the fire ignite in his belly. If ever there was a time for a Daybringer Flame, it was now.

  But he didn’t have a chance. With a defiant cry, Kaos thrust his staff into the air, sending a blast of energy up into the bottom of the enormous foot. Spyro heard the troll shout out, “Oooh, that tickles,” before it vanished with a deafening crack.

  “Ha!” shouted Kaos triumphantly into the air. “That’s what you get when you try to squash Kaos! I am victorious. AGAIN!”

  “No,” yelled Spyro, stalking toward the Portal Master. Despite his bravado, the dragon saw Kaos swallow hard and take a step back. “You’re up to something. I know you are.”

  “Up to something?” Kaos said, recovering his composure and trying his very hardest to look innocent. “Little old me? Spyro, I’m hurt. I thought we were friends now, what with me saving your life and all.”

  “You can’t fool us, Kaos.”

  “Indeed,” Jet-Vac agreed, turning his hawk eyes on the Portal Master. “That was no ordinary troll.”

  Kaos let out a snort.

  “No kidding, FOOL! I don’t know if you noticed, Skychumps, but it was a mega troll!”

  “No, it was Glumshanks,” Spyro insisted.

  Kaos’s snort turned into a snigger.

  “Glumshanks? You think that was Glumshanks? That huge, stompy monster?”

  The snigger turned into a belly laugh.

  “Bwa-ha-ha-haaaaa. I knew you were stupid, but…”

  “Has someone cracked a joke, Master?”

  Spyro’s head snapped around. It was Glumshanks shuffling around a boulder, covered in dust and sand.