by Onk Beakman
“That’s just weird,” said Grim Creeper, escaping through the soft, thick carpet on the floor.
He appeared in a corridor below, and breathed a sigh of relief that there wasn’t a portrait in sight. That said, the décor wasn’t much better. The walls were lined with skeletons hanging from chains. Each skeleton was sobbing uncontrollably.
“What’s wrong with you?” Grim Creeper asked the nearest bonehead.
“What’s wrong with me?” The skeleton wept. “I’ve been hanging here for five hundred years, and I’ve got itchy ribs. Do you know what it’s like not being able to scratch for five centuries?”
Grim Creeper looked at the skeleton sadly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s not much I can do without my armor.”
“That’s okay.” The skeleton sniffed. “There is one thing you can do for us, though.”
“Anything!” Grim Creeper said, always eager to help.
“Feed our bats!” the skeleton screamed, opening its mouth wide. A swarm of squeaking bats shot out of the skeleton’s open jaws, flapping around Grim Creeper’s phantom face.
Soon, the air was full of the vicious creatures, which snapped at the reaper with razor-sharp teeth.
“Ow!” he yelled as one nipped his cheek. Unbelievable! They could bite him even when he was in his ghost form. This place really was a nightmare.
On the walls, the skeletons rattled with laughter.
“Talk about tickling your funny bone!” the one with the itch said with a snort.
Its toothless neighbor agreed. “I’m laughing my skull off here!” it said, snickering.
Grim Creeper didn’t find it funny. The bats stayed with him, continuing to bite him, no matter how fast he twisted and turned. Then the ghost had an idea. “Let’s see if you really will follow me everywhere, my flappy little friends.”
The Skylander did a loop-the-loop in the air and rushed down the corridor, the bats following in hot pursuit. He lurched toward the wall, sweeping through the skeletons. He grinned as the bats did the same, smashing the cackling bone bags into pieces.
The toothless skeleton’s skull bounced off the floor one time, before coming to rest next to the rib cage of its itchy neighbor.
“Ooh, yeah,” said the first skeleton. “Scratch there! Scratch there!”
Grim Creeper, meanwhile, had reached the end of the corridor, the bats still snapping at his tail. With a last burst of speed, he passed through the wall and finally came to a halt as he heard the bats hitting the bricks on the other side.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Ha!” Grim Creeper laughed. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before trying to snack on a spirit!”
Thankfully, this new corridor was free of paintings and skeletons. It stretched into the distance, its peeling wallpaper interrupted only by the occasional door or arch. There was something else, too. A horribly familiar voice drifted toward the ghost.
“Kaos!” Grim Creeper muttered beneath his breath and floated toward the sound of the Skylanders’ archenemy.
He found the evil Portal Master behind one of the wooden doors. Glumshanks was there, too, holding the Big Bad Ice Bomb in his shaking hands. Unseen, Grim Creeper silently drifted through the door and hid behind a big wooden chest to listen.
“Careful, Glumshanks,” hissed Kaos. “You don’t want it to go off.”
“I don’t, Lord Kaos,” agreed the Troll. “Th-that’s the very last thing I want!”
“Now, let me see,” said Kaos, pulling a notebook from his sleeve. “Ah yes, here it is. Kaos’s Brilliant Plan for Defeating the Nightmare King. Step one: Go back in time.”
“Ch-check,” said Glumshanks, still nervously clutching the bomb.
“Step two: Obtain the Big Bad Ice Bomb.”
“D-d-done.”
“Step three: Cast a timing spell that will prime the Big Bad Ice Bomb to detonate in half an hour. Simple enough.” Kaos flexed his fingers before focusing on the Legendary Treasure. “Big Bad Ice Bomb! I, KAOS, command you to explode in thirty minutes. Not a second more, not a second less. You will freeze King Nefarion where he stands so I can grab the Mask of Power and become ALL-POWERFUL!”
Kaos stared at the bomb, but nothing happened. Suddenly he remembered the last word of the spell. “Please!”
An eerie blue glow pulsed across the bomb’s icy surface, and the spell was cast.
“There,” said Kaos, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Now to pass the bomb to the Nightmare King and—BOOOOOM—victory is mine.”
“Congratulations, Lord Kaos,” Glumshanks said, still not completely convinced that the Legendary Treasure wasn’t about to go off in his face.
“If only those Skyblunderers were around to see me triumph,” Kaos said, grinning the evil grin he saved for special occasions. “But I think it’s best they stay trapped beneath the ground for all time.”
You wish, thought Grim Creeper in his hiding place. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to wipe that stupid smile from Kaos’s smug face. Not while he was still in his ghost form. Unless . . .
Now it was Grim Creeper’s turn to grin. A plan had formed in his spectral head, but he had to move quickly. He had only half an hour before the Big Bad Ice Bomb went boom!
Chapter Twelve
Cell Break
At the bottom of the Nightmare King’s nightmarish fortress lay the dungeons.
The dungeons, like the rest of the castle, were not a nice place to hang out. They were made worse by the fact that they were just above the sewers (which held the title of Skylands’ Smelliest Location until Kaos’s sock drawer was invented nearly five thousand years later).
It was in these dungeons that the last of the Portal Masters sat, feeling extremely sorry for himself. Wizbit slumped on a bumpy, worn-out mattress, staring at his feet with such fury that you would think it was his toes’ fault he had fallen for Kaos’s lies.
“How could I have been so stupid?” the old Mabu said out loud.
“Don’t blame yourself,” replied a spooky voice.
“AAAAAAAAARGH!” screamed the nervy Portal Master.
“Sorry about that!” said Grim Creeper, slipping effortlessly through the dungeon wall. “Scaring folk goes with the territory when you’re a ghost. Even a friendly one!”
“I deserve to be scared,” the Mabu said sadly. “I was such a fool. I can’t believe I blew my chance to stop Nefarion!”
“There’s still a way,” said Grim Creeper, floating excitedly in front of the Portal Master.
“There is?” asked Wizbit.
Grim Creeper explained how Eruptor and Slam Bam were trapped with his living armor beneath the ground.
“If you Portalled them out,” the reaper concluded, “we could send Kaos back to the future and help you defeat Nefarion.”
“You’d do that for me?” said the Mabu. “Even after I betrayed you?”
“Of course we would,” Grim Creeper said. “You’re a Portal Master. We’re Skylanders. Helping you is what we do.”
“There’s only one small problem,” pointed out Wizbit. “I can’t do anything without a Portal of Power. There’s one in Nefarion’s throne room, but that’s upstairs, and we’re all the way down here. How are we even going to get out of this dungeon?”
A smile lit up Grim Creeper’s face. “I was hoping you were going to ask me that!”
Outside the Portal Master’s cell, a large, heavily armored Troll was eating his lunch. It was his favorite—a pebble and seaweed sandwich. Lip-smackingly delicious.
He was about to take a bite when his prisoner shouted through the gap at the bottom of the cell door.
“Hello out there,” Wizbit cried.
“What do you want?” the Troll replied with a snarl, the sandwich almost at his thick, blubbery lips. “I’m on my break!”
“I was just wondering if you could clear something up for me?” asked the Portal Master.
“No!” the Troll snapped and took a big bite, crunching the pebbles noisily. Mmm. Delicious.
“It’s just that I’ve heard these dungeons are haunted,” Wizbit continued anyway. “Is that true?”
The Troll stopped chewing. “Haunted?”
“Yes,” replied the Portal Master. “By a ghost who really, really doesn’t like Trolls.”
The Troll swallowed nervously. “Sounds pretty ridiculous to me.”
“You’re probably right,” agreed Wizbit. “Besides, they say the phantom only attacks when a Troll is eating. Thanks for the chat!”
The prisoner fell quiet, and the Troll looked suspiciously at his half-eaten sandwich. Nah! The old Mabu didn’t know what he was talking about. It was just an old story.
Wasn’t it?
Something whistled past the Troll’s lumpy head.
The guard jumped to his feet, dropping his sandwich. The pebbles rolled away—only to be blown back seconds later.
“Aaargh!” screamed the Troll, snatching up what he hoped was his sword but turned out to be the keys to the cell. He brandished them in front of himself, shouting into the shadows. “Who’s there?”
Another breeze whooshed across his back. He whirled around, just in time to spot something passing through the wall into the cells.
“Who’s there?” he shrieked.
“Sorry?” Wizbit responded innocently. “No one here but me. Oh, and the ghost.”
“The ghost?” the Troll asked, his voice wavering as his eyes darted around the dungeon. “You mean it’s real?”
In answer to his question, voices came from every direction at once.
“Troll. Troll. Troll.”
“Leave me alone!” yelled the guard.
“TROLL. TROLL. TROLL.”
“I don’t believe in you!” the Troll cried. “You don’t exist!”
Suddenly the voices stopped and the dungeon was still. No wind. No noise. Nothing.
“Oh, so you don’t believe in the ghost, huh?” Wizbit asked.
“No,” insisted the Troll, now attempting to hide behind the keys. “No, I do not.”
“That’s too bad,” said the Mabu. “Because he believes in you!”
A spectral face appeared in front of the Troll, its eyes flashing in the dark.
“Boo!” the ghost said with a grin.
“Waaaaaaaaaah!” the Troll wailed, throwing down the keys and running for his life. “I want my mommy!”
The rest of Grim Creeper’s body appeared beneath his head, and he watched as the guard vanished out the main dungeon gate. Then he floated down to the discarded ring of keys and blew it beneath Wizbit’s cell door.
Seconds later, the Portal Master had unlocked the door and was free. Of course, there was still the issue of how they were going to sneak into the throne room.
“Not a problem,” said the ghostly Skylander, pointing at a spare suit of armor lying in a pile against the dungeon wall. “Have you ever wanted to be a Troll?”
Chapter Thirteen
The Throne Room of Terror
“This will never work,” puffed Wizbit, clanking down a corridor in the ridiculously large armor.
“Yes, it will,” encouraged Grim Creeper, floating ahead. “Just think like a Troll.”
Unable to see out from beneath the heavy helmet, Wizbit walked into a stone pillar with a crash.
“That’s more like it!” said the ghost.
They turned a corner and found themselves in the far end of the throne room. It was a huge chamber, full of diamond statues and creepy tapestries. Grim Creeper hadn’t even realized that tapestries could be so creepy until he saw this nightmarish needlework. Each tapestry showed King Nefarion stamping on a creature. Mabu, Molekin, even cyclopses—they were all getting squashed beneath the Nightmare King’s boots.
And there, sitting on a gigantic throne made out of bones, was Nefarion himself. He looked like a spider lurking at the center of its web, long arms and legs sprouting from a thin, wiry body that was almost as bony as the throne itself. On his face he wore the Mask of Power, which was just as horrific as it had been in Wizbit’s cavern. The mane of serpents writhed around Nefarion’s head, tiny tongues tasting the air.
“Look,” said Wizbit, struggling to point in the hefty armor. “It’s Kaos.”
Sure enough, the evil Portal Master was approaching the throne. Glumshanks, holding the Big Bad Ice Bomb, followed behind.
“We’re too late,” whispered the Mabu.
But Grim Creeper had spotted something else on the other side of the room. “It’s the Portal of Power,” he said, trying to work out how they could reach it without being seen.
“Your Frightful Majesty,” Kaos began, bowing in front of the Nightmare King. “I bring you the Big Bad Ice Bomb, as commanded.”
“We thank you, loyal and worthless servant,” hissed Nefarion, indicating for Glumshanks to come forward. The Troll looked nervously at his master and then shuffled toward the throne.
“That’s close enough,” the king ordered, raising a hand. Glumshanks came to a halt, nearly falling over his large feet.
“Interesting,” the king wheezed, cocking his head to listen to the Legendary Treasure. “Can you hear anything, Kaos?”
Kaos thrust out his bottom lip. “Nothing at all, Your Monstrous Majesty. Can you, Glumshanks?”
The Troll shook his head. “No, Lord Kaos.”
“We can,” the king announced, anger flooding into his voice. “The Big Bad Ice Bomb. It’s ticking!”
“No!” exclaimed Kaos, his mouth dropping open in mock surprise. “Why would it be doing that?”
“Treachery!” cried Nefarion. “Do you think we are a fool?”
“Welllll . . .” Kaos smirked. “Now that I come to think of it . . .”
“You have cast a timing spell on this weapon,” said the king. “We can smell it. You plan to freeze us in our own castle, just like that pathetic Portal Master.”
“And it’s a plan that will work!” Kaos screamed, throwing his hands above his head. The Big Bad Ice Bomb shot from Glumshanks’ grasp and flew into the air, stopping high above the Nightmare King’s throne. “Unless you hand the Mask of Power over to me, KAOS, you are DOOOOOMED!”
“Never,” said the king, rising to his feet. Dark energy was already crackling around his claw-like hands, ready to strike down the double-crossing Portal Master where he stood. “We shall destroy you!”
“He’s done for!” Wizbit said, but Grim Creeper wasn’t too sure.
“Kaos has usually got a trick or two up his sleeves,” the ghost said. “Unfortunately.”
The Skylander was right. “Destroy me?” Kaos jeered. “You wouldn’t know where to start!”
The evil Portal Master clapped his hands together, and in a flash the entire throne room was filled with perfect copies of Kaos, dancing around in victory.
“There are hundreds of them!” Wizbit gasped.
“But which is the real one?” Grim Creeper asked.
It was a question that was obviously vexing the Nightmare King as well. Nefarion threw balls of energy into the crowd, vaporizing a dozen Kaoses at a time. Every time, more Kaos clones appeared in their place.
“Missed me!” cried a Kaos from the king’s right.
“Or did you?” shouted a Kaos to the left.
“By the time you’ve found the real me,” crowed a Kaos from behind the throne, “you’ll be as cold as ice.”
“Unless you give me that mask!” added another Kaos at the back of the room.
“Your choice,” every Kaos said at once, “Your FOOLISH Majesty!”
“Noooooo!” the Nightmare King roared in frustration. The Big Bad Ice Bomb carried on ticking, high abo
ve his head.
Chapter Fourteen
Total Kaos
The Nightmare King’s throne room was in, well, chaos. Nefarion was ranting and raving, blasting Kaos clones everywhere you looked. The Kaoses, meanwhile, were cackling and crowing and telling anyone who would listen that the Nightmare King was DOOOOMED!
It was just the confusion Grim Creeper and Wizbit needed. Discarding the Mabu’s Troll armor, they made their way through the crowd of Kaoses, heading for the Portal of Power. It was the most dangerous thing Wizbit had ever done, and he squealed with fear every time one of the king’s energy balls exploded nearby.
“Don’t worry,” Grim said, encouraging the little Mabu. “We’re nearly there!”
At one point Wizbit was thrown from his feet by a bolt of black lightning that disintegrated the nearest gaggle of laughing Kaoses. Before the Mabu had time to scrabble to his little feet, new Kaoses appeared, taunting the Nightmare King with cries of “Ooh, that tickles!”
“That’s it!” shouted Grim Creeper as they reached the Portal. “Now, bring them back! Bring them back now!”
In the cave, the situation had gone from bad to something even worse than worse.
The weight of the cave-in was proving too much for Slam Bam’s ice defenses. No sooner did he throw up more ice blocks than they shattered. The Skylanders were being squashed into the ground. Eruptor was carefully trying to burn a tunnel through the rock without burning Slam Bam, but without his full lava power, he could only make small gaps at a time.
“It’s no good,” he said, barely able to move. “I can’t get through.”
Slam Bam strained to twist toward the living armor, which was now flattened beneath a particularly large rock.
“Any news from Grim Creeper?” the yeti asked, but the leather hood wasn’t even able to shake itself in reply.
“Bummer!” Slam Bam said, pushing his back against the rocks. Maybe, just maybe, he could hold back the stones with brute strength alone. It was hopeless, he knew, but Skylanders never, ever gave up. Not even when the situation was this grim.