by Beakman, Onk
Chapter Ten
A BIG PROBLEM
The four Skylanders stood in the shadow of the Chompy Pod. The ship had docked beside the Archive and they had climbed down the gangplank in silence. All eyes were on the Pod, and all thoughts were on what was inside.
“So, how many Chompies can come out of a normal-size Chompy Pod?” asked Trigger Happy, his tongue lolling out of the side of his gaping mouth as he tried to take in the scale of the plant.
“Four or five at first,” Stealth Elf replied, “although leave it unchecked and it’ll keep spewing them out for all time.”
“Be-be-beep. And how much damage can four or five Chompies do?”
“They could eat through a field of grain in five minutes flat if you let them,” replied Spyro.
“Thought so, sir,” said Drill Sergeant quietly. “Thank you, sir.”
“So let me get this straight,” Trigger continued, absently playing with the safety catches on his golden guns. “The average Chompy comes up to your knee.”
“Yes,” said Spyro.
“Knees they’ll instantly try to bite off.”
“Yes,” said Spyro.
“And this Chompy Pod, it must be, what, eight stories high.”
This time Spyro didn’t reply. He was too busy imagining the size of the Chompies growing inside.
Trigger Happy whistled. “Just think of the teeth…”
“We’ve thrown everything we have at it,” explained Wiggleworth, stepping forward from the battalion of Warrior Librarians that had traipsed off the ship. “Cannons, catapults, battering rams, and blaster rays. Nothing has even left a mark on it. Of course, we’re not so much worried about the Pod…”
“Rather, what happens when the Chompies themselves hatch,” said Spyro, completing the chief curator’s sentence.
“And what carnage they will cause,” Stealth Elf added.
“Exactly. Three, four, maybe even five giant Chompies running around? They could chew through the Archive’s walls in minutes. No book on our shelves would be safe. All those treasures would be lost forever.”
“Be-beep. And then there’s the vault, sir,” reminded Drill Sergeant. “Don’t forget the vault.”
“As if I could. We just have to find a way to destroy the Pod before it hatches.”
It was almost as if the impossible plant was listening to the chief curator’s words. As if on cue, the Pod shuddered, a deep, sickening gurgle bubbling up from behind its thick emerald skin.
Stealth Elf’s hands went to the hilts of her daggers.
“It won’t be long,” she said, her voice buzzing with urgency. “They’ve started to break out.”
“Then we need to act,” Spyro shouted, beating his wings and rising into the air above their heads. “Curator, have your Librarians train their weapons on the Pod.”
Behind them, twenty Warrior Librarians moved as one, bringing their blasters up to target the plant.
“Drills, start your engines.”
The bulldozer raised his arms, drill bits already revolving. “Boop-boop. DX3000-Detonators ready for firing, sir.”
“Stealth, summon your shadowsbane blades.”
Stealth Elf threw up her arms, muttering an elven incantation behind her mask. The air shimmered around her as three spinning blades formed out of nowhere, dancing around her, waiting to attack.
“Trigg, lock and load.”
The gremlin didn’t need to be told twice. His guns were already covering the gigantic target.
Spyro turned back to the plant, feeling the fire ignite in his own belly. This was it. Now or never. He opened his mouth and cried, “Fire!”
The noise was tremendous. Twenty energy bolts sliced through the air. Drill Sergeant’s drill rockets erupted from his arms. Stealth Elf’s enchanted blades whirled forward, slashing at the tough green hide, and Trigg fired round after round of shining ammo, the golden gunfire almost drowning out his peals of excited laughter.
Spyro joined in the assault, a volley of fireballs blazing from his open mouth.
But it didn’t work.
The blaster bolts slammed helplessly against the Pod.
The drill bits exploded to little effect.
The blades blunted against the chunky skin.
The golden coins tumbled back to the ground.
The fireballs bounced back at Spyro.
The Pod wasn’t even singed.
“Cease firing,” Spyro reluctantly cried, dropping back to the ground. “It’s no good.”
“Beep. Do we have a plan B, sir?” asked Drill Sergeant, new drill rockets automatically constructing at the ends of his arms.
“Or even a plan C, D, or E?” added Trigger Happy.
“I’m open to suggestions,” Spyro admitted, looking up at the Pod in despair.
“Well, whatever we do, I suggest we do it quick,” insisted Stealth Elf, her now-useless blades fading away. “That thing is about to blow.”
Sure enough, the Pod was writhing and gurgling, its green skin stretching as the creatures within struggled to get out.
With a wet, squelching rip and a plume of pungent spores, the Pod split and five very tall and very hungry Chompies burst out of its leaves.
Chapter Eleven
HUGE APPETITES
If their weapons had little effect on the Pod, they were next to useless on the Chompies themselves. The five monsters charged forward, looking for something to eat, looking for anything to eat. One started to rip trees out of the ground as if they were daisies, while another set its sights on the airship. The remaining two piled straight into the wall. Bricks and gems rained down to the ground as their diamond-hard teeth made short work of the Archive’s defenses.
The Warrior Librarians that managed to avoid being trampled underfoot were firing salvo after salvo at the creatures, although their blasts were close to useless. It was like gnats snapping at a rhinoceros.
Drill Sergeant had given up trying to blast the Chompies with his drill rockets and instead kept thundering forward in power charges, ramming their feet. He bounced off every time like a rubber ball.
Spyro swooped down to find his friend flailing around hopelessly on his back.
“Be-beep! How embarrassing can this get, sir?” Drill Sergeant complained as Spyro helped him back on his tracks. “I’ve tunneled through mountains and excavated volcanoes and yet can’t knock a simple Chompy off its feet.”
“There’s nothing simple about this Chompy,” shouted Spyro, soaring back into the air and narrowly missing a tumbling lump of masonry. “About any of them.”
Spyro heard a cry from below. He look down to see Stealth Elf trapped beneath one of the Chompies’ feet. She was jabbing its ankle with her daggers, trying to get it to shift, but the thing didn’t even flinch. Trigg had abandoned his guns and was desperately trying to help, shoving against the leg for all his worth. Spyro pulled his wings in close and fell into a dive, dropping his horns into optimum butting position.
Wham!
He slammed into the Chompy’s ankle and ricocheted off in the opposite direction. He hit the ground with a grunt and tumbled head over tail before finally coming to a halt. His head spun, stars dancing across his vision. Skylands’s greatest champion? Ha! He wondered what Wiggleworth thought of him now.
Swerving to avoid the pounding feet of another marauding Chompy, Spyro tore back over to where Stealth Elf was trapped. He grabbed her arm in his jaws and heaved. It was no good. No matter how hard he pulled, she was stuck fast, and the Chompy was showing no sign of shifting. It was too busy gnawing through the wall.
“Stay there,” Spyro barked at Stealth Elf, and shot back into the air.
“Where else am I going to go?” she shouted after him. “This is quite a pressing engagement.”
Spyro wasn’t listening. He was flying straight up the side of the Chompy, past its massive mouth, past its gleaming white teeth, over its drawn-back lips, and up to its beady black eyes. Eyes that were each the size of a hot air bal
loon. They swayed hungrily at the top of thick antenna, staring hungrily ahead, imagining what tasty treats lay beyond the wall.
Spyro came in level with the eyes and yelled at the top of his voice.
“Hey, fang features! Over here.”
The eyes swiveled, finally focusing on the tiny dragon. The creature roared. It wasn’t the shrill squeak you usually associate with a Chompy, but a terrifying explosion of noise. It was so loud it almost blasted Spyro into the wall, but his tired wings pounded the air, keeping him hovering in front of the beast.
Spyro didn’t mind admitting he was scared. Who wouldn’t be? But he needed that fear. It would help him focus on what he was about to do.
He sucked air into his lungs and felt flames burst into life inside his belly. He closed his eyes, fueling the fire, stoking it, letting it rage almost out of control. Then, when it felt as if he could no longer contain it, he breathed out. The fireball that erupted from his mouth was the biggest and brightest he’d ever produced.
The Daybringer Flame.
Searing white light flooded over the island, illuminating everything for miles around. Only Spyro could look directly into the inferno. Only Spyro saw the Chompy recoil, temporarily blinded by the brightness of the light. It stumbled back, stumpy arms waving in confusion, teeth grinding against one another.
Then it was gone, tumbling over the edge of the island, plunging down into the void below.
Spyro didn’t waste time. He plummeted down to where Stealth Elf lay, at the edge of a huge Chompy footprint. She was blinking madly, trying to clear her vision, while Trigger Happy bounced up and down on the spot, cheering loudly.
“Next time you have a bright idea,” she laughed, pulling herself to her feet, “tell me so I can close my eyes first.”
Then she winced as she tried to put weight on her ankle, leaning heavily on Spyro.
“You’re hurt,” Spyro yelled over the sound of the battle. “You should call for a Portal.”
“Never!” she called back. “You think I’m going to let you get all the glory? I’ll be—”
Stealth Elf never completed her sentence. None of the Skylanders had noticed the angry Chompy swinging its leg toward them, but they definitely felt it as the vengeful creature booted them high into the air. Spyro looked up in horror to see that they were all flying straight into the gaping mouth of another giant Chompy.
Chapter Twelve
KAOS TO THE RESCUE
Drill Sergeant watched as his three friends arced toward the monster’s grinning mouth, Trigg’s tongue trailing behind them like a demented ribbon.
“Boop. Oh no, you don’t,” the bulldozer beeped, his eyes closing to small dots. “If you want something to chomp on, try this.”
With a grunt of effort, he plunged both of his revolving drill bits into the soft ground, anchoring them into the earth. When he was sure they were secure, he fired the rockets. With nowhere to go, the blast shot the Skylander into the air. He whizzed up, wheels spinning, blaster firing in all directions.
“Beep-beep. I hope you know a good dentist,” Drill Sergeant roared as he slammed into one of the Chompy’s massive fangs. There was a bone-splintering crunch, and the tooth was knocked clear from the creature’s gums. It wailed, instinctively closing its mouth. Instead of flying straight down its gullet, Spyro and Stealth Elf smacked into its lips and tumbled to the floor. Just before they hit the ground, Spyro righted himself, grabbed Stealth, and spread his wings wide so that the two of them would glide to safety. As soon as they were down, he ran across to Drill Sergeant, who had landed on his head, and flipped him the right way up with his horns.
“Bo-bop. Most obliged, sir,” Drill Sergeant said. “The oil was rushing to my head.”
“No, it’s you we’ve got to thank,” Spyro insisted as Stealth Elf hobbled over. “We nearly became a Chompy snack.”
Above them, the defanged Chompy was still wailing in agony. Spyro’s smile faded as he realized what was about to happen, but there was nothing he could do. Blinded with pain, the Chompy stumbled back, stood on its own dislodged tooth, leaped up in shock, and fell back into the Archive walls. The beleaguered defenses could take no more and collapsed, sending bricks flying everywhere.
That was it. The Chompies were in the Archive. They would munch their way through every book and there was little anyone could do. Spyro looked around. Most of the Librarians had been crushed under the Chompies’ feet, and those that were left were gently rescuing the other bookworms from mangled armor. Stealth Elf had a busted ankle, Drill Sergeant still looked dazed, and Trigg’s guns were still on the other side of the green.
“We need reinforcements,” Spyro shouted.
“I thought you’d never ask,” came an all-too-familiar voice. Spyro’s heart sank as he whirled around to greet the newcomer.
It was Kaos, with Glumshanks cowering behind his master’s flapping robes.
“What do you want?” Spyro growled, rounding on his nemesis.
“What do I want?” Kaos sneered. “I, Kaos, champion of the oppressed, righter of wrongs?” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I want you to stand aside, Skyblunderer, and let a real hero get to work.”
With a flourish, Kaos pointed his staff at the wounded Chompy, which was still lying in the ruins of the Archive. There was a familiar crackle of energy and the monster vanished.
The remaining three Chompies didn’t care. They were already charging for the gap in the wall.
“Oh deary, deary me, this is dreadful. Disastrous.” Spyro looked up to see Wiggleworth being carried in the palm of a distinctly battered-looking Warrior Librarian. The chief curator’s own suit had been reduced to a sparking wreck during the first attack. “Our walls have been breached. You must do something, Spyro. Please.”
“Look who it is,” jeered Kaos, peering down at the worm. “Chief Curator Wiggleworth. Long time no see.”
The worm gazed up in bewilderment, obviously none the wiser.
“I’m sorry, but have we met?”
“I thought you said everyone knew who you were, Master? That you were now the most famous champion of Skylands?” commented Glumshanks, receiving a sharp elbow in the ribs in response.
“It was a long time ago, when I was a child,” Kaos continued, smirking horribly. “I wanted to borrow World Domination for Beginners. You said it wasn’t available for loan. The same went for The Complete A to Z of Being Diabolical. ‘Reference only,’ you said.”
“And I was right,” blustered the Curator, his mustache bristling. “They must never leave the Archive’s walls.”
“Those walls?” questioned Kaos, jabbing a stumpy finger at the pile of bricks where the defenses used to be. “The walls being attacked by humongous Chompies?” He gestured with his thumb toward the approaching monsters, who suddenly floated slightly off the ground. Their eyes boggled in shock and their legs wiggled as they bobbed in midair. “The Chompies I have now trapped in my lighter-than-air levitation spell?”
Wiggleworth let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” hissed Kaos. “I suppose you’ll be wanting me to get rid of them now? Would that help?”
The worm nodded, his cracked glasses bouncing up and down on his nose.
“That would be marvelous. We would be forever in your debt.”
Kaos grinned, revealing a row of yellowing, uneven teeth.
“Excellent. You see, there is the little matter of my payment…”
Now Spyro had heard everything. “Payment?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re expecting the Librarians to pay you? What about being a hero?”
A look of mock outrage flickered over Kaos’s smarmy features.
“Heroes still have to eat, don’t they? What do you think I am? A charity?”
“But we can’t pay,” Wiggleworth stammered. “We don’t have any money. We only deal in books.”
Kaos’s forehead crinkled into a frown.
“Only in books you say, hmmmm.” He tapped a stubby finger against his chin. “Glumshanks, give me the paper…”
The troll looked up at his master expectantly.
“Master?”
“The paper, Glumshanks. The very important paper I gave you on the off chance that the Warrior Librarians of the Eternal Archive only dealt in books.”
“Oh, that paper!” Glumshanks exclaimed, digging around in his tatty tunic. After a few seconds of groping, he produced a scrunched up piece of paper and handed it to his master.
“One of these days, Glumshanks…” Kaos warned, snatching the paper and thrusting it toward the bookworm. “Here. You will get me this book or I’ll release the Chompies.”
“That’s blackmail!” Spyro stated, although he shouldn’t have been surprised. Kaos had done much worse in the past.
“Such an ugly word, dragonfly,” Kaos sneered. “A correct one, I’ll grant you, but ugly all the same.”
Wiggleworth looked at the paper and his face went pale.
“No,” he whispered. “That is not possible.”
“You dare defy me, fool? You dare defy Kaos? Your savior?”
“You don’t understand. That book is in the vault. It’s forbidden.”
“Believe me, I understand perfectly.” Kaos wiggled his thumb. “Your choice, small fry. Deliver the book into my hands or your precious library is doomed.” He leaned closer to the curator, his piggy nose inches from Wiggleworth’s own. “DOOOOMED!”
Wiggleworth brought himself up to his (quite unimpressive) full height and held his chin high. “Never!”
Kaos sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Oh, very well. Don’t say I, Kaos, didn’t warn you. MINIONS! EAT UP! Ha-ha-ha-haaaa!”
With a flick of his wrist, Kaos’s spell was broken, and the three giant Chompies dropped back to the ground and raced for the breach in the wall.