Cynder Confronts the Weather Wizard Read online

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

  penguin.com A Penguin Random House Company

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Written by Cavan Scott Illustrated by Dani Geremia—Beehive Illustration Agency

  © 2015 Activision Publishing, Inc. SKYLANDERS UNIVERSE is a trademark and ACTIVISION is a registered trademark of Activision Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  ISBN 978-0-698-41221-7

  Version_1

  About the Author

  Onk Beakman knew he wanted to be a world-famous author from the moment he was hatched. In fact, the book-loving penguin was so excited that he wrote his first novel while still inside his egg (to this day, nobody is entirely sure where he got the tiny pencil and notebook from).

  Growing up on the icy wastes of Skylands’ Frozen Desert was difficult for a penguin who hated the cold. While his brothers plunged into the freezing waters, Onk could be found with his beak buried in a book and a pen clutched in his flippers.

  Yet his life changed forever when a giant floating head appeared in the skies above the tundra. It was Kaos, attempting to melt the icecaps so he could get his grubby little hands on an ancient weapon buried beneath the snow.

  Onk watched open-beaked as Spyro swept in and sent the evil Portal Master packing. From that day, Onk knew that he must chronicle the Skylanders’ greatest adventures. He traveled the length and breadth of Skylands, collecting every tale he could find about Master Eon’s brave champions.

  Today, Onk writes from a shack on the beautiful sands of Blistering Beach with his two pet sea cucumbers.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Title Page

  About the Author

  The Oncoming Storm

  Quicksand

  A Cry for Help

  The Isle of the Undead

  The Stump Demon

  Hurrikazam

  Lightning Strike

  Under the Weather

  The Thing in the Room

  The Plan

  Into the Cloud

  The Amazing (Fantastic, Incredible, Surprising, Unfathomable) All-Colored Rose

  Stormy Weather

  Betrayal

  Kaos’s Finest Hour

  The Final Battle

  An Unexpected Offer

  Special Excerpt from Stump Smash Crosses the Bone Dragon

  Chapter One

  The Oncoming Storm

  “Oh yeah,” said Zook, reaching for another coconut drink. “This is the life, right, Cynder?”

  Beside the Bambazooker, the dark purple dragon shifted uncomfortably beneath the shade of a large umbrella.

  “Speak for yourself, Bamboo Boy,” she said with a sigh. “Remind me again why we’re lying on a beach?”

  “To soak up the sun, why else?” The green-barked Life Skylander slurped the creamy coconut milk noisily. “This is the Cloudless Desert, the sunniest spot in all of Skylands. Just kick back and relax, that’s all.”

  “And you don’t feel guilty that we’re wasting our time when we should be out looking for the next segment of the Mask of Power?” Cynder snapped, her scaly brow furrowing. She glanced around, taking in the countless Mabu out enjoying a day in the sun. Didn’t they realize the danger they were all in? Kaos was trying to reassemble the fabled Mask of Power. If he managed it . . .

  “Hey, hey, hey, just chill,” insisted Zook, settling back in his deck chair. “If Master Eon needs us, he knows where to find us.”

  The buzz of the happy vacationers was broken by a sharp crack that sounded like the universe being pulled in two. Cynder was immediately on her feet. She knew that sound. It was a Portal!

  She spun around to see a column of light blaze into existence. A figure materialized at its heart. It was tall, regal, and more than a little spooky.

  Cynder grinned. Zook wanted to chill and you couldn’t get more chilling than this new arrival: Hex!

  The elven sorceress swept from the Portal, her piercing gaze passing over the beach.

  All around, there were gasps and even a few whimpers. Like Cynder, Hex was an Undead Skylander—a mistress of dark magic and feared by many. Hex’s ghost-white eyes shimmered as she watched the vacationers frantically pack up their towels and beach chairs, deciding that there was something else they’d rather be doing. Like getting trapped in a spider-infested cave or fed to a pack of zombies.

  “What’s up, Hexy?” called Zook in greeting. “You here to catch the rays?” The Bambazooker peeked over his pair of ridiculously large sunglasses. “You do look like you could use a tan.”

  Hex’s narrow mouth turned down at the corners. She wasn’t known for her sense of humor. She was known for striking fear into everyone’s hearts, which was quite different.

  “Master Eon needs you,” she replied, her voice like wind whistling through a graveyard. “You’ll have to ‘catch the rays’ another time.” Her disgust at the very concept was obvious. Hex was more at home in moonlight than in the warmth of the sun.

  “Is it the mask?” Cynder said eagerly, feeling an electric thrill run through her wings. “Has Eon located the next segment?”

  But Hex didn’t answer. Instead she peered into the sky, a puzzled look on her ashen face.

  “I thought this place was known as the Cloudless Desert?” she commented, floating up from the blisteringly hot sands.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Zook confirmed contentedly. “Not a cloud in the sky.”

  “Except that one,” Hex muttered, cocking her head to the side in curiosity.

  Cynder followed the witch’s gaze. She was right. A tiny cloud had appeared in the expanse of brilliant blue. A cloud that was growing, and growing fast. A shadow fell over the sands as the three Skylanders gazed up in amazement. In a matter of seconds the cloud had smothered the sky, becoming darker with every passing minute.

  “Hey, who turned off the sun?” complained Zook, throwing aside his shades and snatching up his bazooka. Fun-loving and carefree he may have been, but Zook recognized a threat when he saw one.

  So did Cynder. Her expression was darkening as quickly as the sky. This was no natural storm.

  “It is the power of Darkness,” cried Hex. She threw her arms out wide, and crackling phantom orbs appeared in her upturned palms. “The forces of nature have turned against us.”

  Cynder felt a drop of rain on her nose, followed by another. A moment later, the heavens opened, and water lashed down from those strange storm clouds.

  “It could just be a quick shower,” joked Zook, ever the eternal optimist. “I mean, who ever got hurt by a few drops of rain?”

  There was a scream from their left. The Skylanders
turned to see a Mabu sinking into the soggy sand. He was already up to his waist in the quagmire. All around, fleeing vacationers were getting stuck, before getting dragged beneath the dunes.

  Cynder could feel the grip of the wet ground pulling her claws down into a clammy embrace.

  “We need to do something,” she yelled, flapping her leathery wings to pull herself free with a wet squelch. “The dunes are turning into quicksand. Everyone is going to be sucked underground!”

  Chapter Two

  Quicksand

  Cynder soared through the air, snatching a sun-worshipping Mabu from the cloying quicksand and flying him to safety. The rain beat down on her wings the whole time, making it difficult to fly. She wouldn’t be able to rescue them all.

  “Zook!” she cried out, spotting another Mabu—who was wearing a flowery sunhat—almost vanishing beneath the surface. “Behind you!”

  The Bambazooker turned, his eyes growing wide when he spotted the stricken Mabu. “Hang on, little buddy,” he shouted out as he splashed through the quagmire.

  “T-to what?” stammered the horrified tourist.

  “To these!” Zook clapped his hands together and bamboo shoots erupted around the sinking Mabu from beneath the sand. Usually, Zook used his foliage barriers for protection—today they would be a lifeline.

  “Great idea, Zook,” Cynder called down. “Can you summon them all over the beach?”

  “No problem,” the Bambazooker yelled back, spinning in a circle. “Let’s Zook it up!”

  Bamboo shoots popped up here, there, and everywhere.

  “Grab hold of the bamboo,” Cynder yelled to the Mabu who were still floundering in the mud. “And hang on to them until I can get to you.”

  “The rain is getting worse,” Zook pointed out. “I’m not sure how long the bamboo will last.”

  “Long enough,” murmured Hex, rising up into the air, sinister wreaths of emerald smoke swirling around her hands.

  “For what?” Zook asked.

  “For the Darkness to fall!” Hex cried out, reaching her hands up to the heavens. Smoke bloomed from her open palms, shooting into the clouds above as the elven witch recited a spell in a language not spoken for thousands upon thousands of years. There was a loud CRACK, and the sky flashed a brilliant green. Even Cynder had to look away from the sudden unnatural flare.

  When the dragon looked again the clouds were scuttling away like giant, fluffy spiders.

  “Hey, hows about that?” Zook laughed. “Instant summer. Heh-heh!”

  Sure enough, beams of sunlight were poking through the retreating clouds, the rain clearing away to nothing.

  Not that heros had time to bask in the sun. “Quick, everyone,” Cynder snapped, snatching a Mabu out of the drying dunes. “Get clear of the sand before it gets baked hard by the heat. You don’t want to get stuck.”

  Zook joined in, helping to remove the cheering vacationers from the gloopy mess. But when Hex swept down and offered a helping hand, the Mabu recoiled.

  “I-it’s o-o-okay,” one terrified sun-worshipper stammered. “We’re f-f-f-fine. In fact, we like it in here.”

  “Yeah,” agreed another struggling vacationer. “B-besides, mud packs are good for the complexion.”

  Hex’s glowing eyes narrowed to slits. She turned, folded her arms across her chest, and stared up at the sun.

  “That was some freaky weather,” commented Zook, helping the last Mabu out of the sand. “It never rains here.”

  “Nor should it,” pointed out Hex, grimly. “That storm was as natural as me.”

  “Natural?” laughed a passing sludge-covered Mabu to his companion. “Who’s she trying to kid?”

  Exactly, Hex hissed to herself, sweeping back to where she had Portalled in.

  Cynder slammed down in front of the two giggling Mabus, who soon decided whimpering was a better option.

  “You got something to say?” she snarled, spitting out electric blue lightning.

  “Nope.” The first Mabu gulped.

  “Not us,” the other said, frantically pulling his big-mouthed buddy in the opposite direction.

  “Good. Keep it that way.” She glanced up at Hex, who was standing with her head held high. Cynder knew what it was like to be feared. Before seeing the error of her ways, she herself had indulged the darker side of her personality, terrorizing her homeland. But Spyro had shown her that there was a better way. It was different for Hex. She hadn’t chosen to become one of the Undead. She had been cursed while protecting innocent souls from evil. And this was how she was repaid.

  “I guess we’d better get back to Master Eon,” Zook said from behind Cynder, snapping her out of her dark thoughts. “He’ll want to know about all this. Hey, you don’t think it’s got something to do with that Mask of Power thingy, do you?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” Cynder snapped, her mind still on Hex. “But I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Zook just chuckled as he threw his bazooka over his shoulder and wandered after the moody dragon. Undead Skylanders, he thought to himself. Why always so gloomy? They needed to be more like him. What was the point of worrying, anyway?

  Chapter Three

  A Cry for Help

  “Hmmmmm, that is a worry,” Master Eon said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “Weird weather reports are coming in from all over Skylands. Earlier today, a heatwave hit the Snowcone Mountains.”

  “Yes,” cut in Hugo, Eon’s right-hand Mabu. “And the Popcorn Volcano has been covered in fifteen feet of snow. Not to mention what happened back at your citadel, Master Eon.”

  “At the citadel?” Cynder asked in disbelief. Master Eon’s home was usually one of the safest places in Skylands.

  “A hailstorm,” Hugo replied, wiping his glasses on an oversized hanky. “Hailstones as big as your fist.”

  “What’s so unusual ’bout that?” asked Zook, shrugging at Cynder.

  “It hailed inside the citadel,” Eon answered, his face grave.

  “I was taking a bath!” Hugo added, with a sniffle. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “Could be worse,” said Cynder slyly.

  “How?” asked the Mabu, already looking nervous.

  “It could have been raining sheep!” the dragon replied, grinning wickedly. The Skylanders were always teasing Hugo about his bizarre fear of ewes and lambs. Sure enough, the little historian began to panic.

  “Is that possible, Master Eon?” he asked in alarm, clutching the Portal Master’s robes. “Can we expect a deluge of those scheming woolly devils?”

  “I sincerely doubt it, Hugo,” Eon said, fixing Cynder with a stare. “And this is no laughing matter.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Hex, whose mood hadn’t improved—although it was difficult to tell thanks to the constant scowl on her face. “It is as if the elements are revolting.”

  “Well, that rain certainly was,” Zook quipped cheerfully, sighing when no one laughed. “At least everything’s A-OK here at the archive.”

  Cynder wasn’t so sure. While they searched for the fragments of the Mask of Power, Eon and the Skylanders had temporarily switched their base to the Eternal Archive, home to both the Warrior Librarians and the infamous Book of Power and Other Utterly Terrifying Stuff (Vol. 3). This enchanted tome was gradually revealing the locations of the eight segments of the Mask that had been scattered across Skylands thousands of years ago. The book had been protected by the librarians for generations.

  On the surface, the librarians looked like your average, run-of-the-mill, gigantic robots, but beneath each one’s metallic armor sat a tiny bookworm who was piloting the fierce-looking suit. They’d gathered every book in the known universe and guarded each one jealously within the walls of their imposing archive.

  Cynder had taken an instant dislike to the place. It was too quiet. Usually, th
e only sound you could hear was the Warrior Librarians telling people to shhh. Of course, she knew that was normal for libraries, but in other libraries the librarians weren’t likely to try to take your head off if you kept talking. Take Squirmgrub, the librarian who had been assigned to help them with the Book of Power. Even now, standing at a respectful distance, the armored archivist had a sword clasped in his metal fist. No wonder people were scared of being overdue with a book. Luckily, Master Eon and the chief curator were old friends. But, as far as Cynder was concerned, the sooner they were out of here the better.

  “Do you think these bizarre weather conditions are linked to what’s happening on the Isle of the Undead, Master Eon?” asked Hugo, still trembling at the thought of a shower of sinister sheep.

  Cynder’s ears pricked up. “The Isle of the Undead? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I’m not sure,” Eon admitted. “We received a call for help from the island dwellers this morning.”

  “But they hate outsiders,” said Hex, who was as intrigued as Cynder. “No Skylander has set foot on the island for five hundred years.”

  Hex wasn’t joking. The Isle of the Undead was a dark and forbidding island set in the middle of a dark and forbidding sea that was surrounded by even darker and more forbidding mountains. It was said to be the place where bad dreams were born, where even monsters feared to tread. Which was exactly why Cynder had always wanted to go there.

  “The plea came from the Night Mayor himself—Morbo the Macabre,” explained Hugo, shivering at the very mention of the name. “The message was written on bat-wing leather, using bloodred spiderling webbing. Ugh!”

  “So what’s the problem?” asked Zook, looking eager to get going. Unlike the rest of his tribe, the Bambazooker lived to explore—oh, and to blast things with his bazooka, of course.

  “That’s the strange thing,” said Eon. “The message simply read, ‘Please send help.’ Nothing more, nothing less.”