The Mysterious Message (Geronimo Stilton Micekings #5)
Page 2
our miceking honor requires that we go help them!” Sven shouted. “And if they want to attack us, we must be ready to fight back with the strength of Stenchberg cheese!
There is only one way to find out what
the message really said. We will make an
21
A Message from Yan the Yawner
official expedition to Oofadale!”
“so says sven the shouter!”
Ready
to
go,
smarty
-mouseking?
Oh no!
22
A MESSAGE FROM YAN THE YAWNER
All the micekings cheered with joy
at this announcement. They hurried off to
prepare for the expedition.
Everyone was excited . . . except
me!
Great stinky clams, this journey could be
risky,
dangerous,
and
perilous!
And I . . . I was a scaredy-mouseking!
23
Mission to
Oofadale!
As soon as Sven said the word expedition,
I tried to sneak off without being noticed.
With everyone cheering, I had a good chance.
I was only half a tail
from the door
when someone
grabbed
my shoulder.
I’m leaving!
24
Mission to Oofadale!
It was Sven. “Geronimo, you spineless
jellyfish, where do you think you’re
going?”
“W-w-well,” I stuttered. “I just thought I’d
go get us some more finnbrew and maybe
a snack. Aren’t you hungry?”
“I am hungry for adventure!” Sven
replied. “We need to plan.”
I tried again. “B-b-but . . . I left my
laundry on the clothesline, and,
um . . .”
“Stop blabbering, blubber
head!” Sven shouted. “As
smarty-
mouseking
of this village, and the
official reader of runes, you
must be part of this expedition. Don’t you
want to finally earn your very first
miceking
helmet?”
I paused. A miceking helmet is the
25
MISSION TO OOFADALE!
greatest honor any mouseking can
get. It is awarded to those who show great
strength,
courage, and
skill in battle.
But my greatest strengths are in miceking
HISTORY,
rune grammar, and
fjord geography, and no helmet is
awarded for those skills.
But if I
did earn a
miceking
helmet,
26
MISSION TO OOFADALE!
then Sven’s daughter, the beautiful
Thora,
might finally respect me!
With a far-off look, I daydreamed
about my miceking crush. Trap snapped me
out of it.
“Don’t worry, cousin,” he said. “I’ll go
with you on this mission!”
Great salty sardines, now I was
really in TROUBLE! Every time my
cousin Trap got involved, he usually tried
out one of his crazy inventions. He has
used me as his official test mouse, risking my
fur every time!
“Why are you so excited to go on a miceking
expedition?” I asked suspiciously.
“I’d like to see an old friend of mine in
Oofadale, Fen Whiskersson,”
he explained. “We went to the Young
Miceking School for Inventors
27
MISSION TO OOFADALE!
together when we were micelets.
“He’s really nice,” Trap continued. “I’m
hoping to discuss some of my new ideas
with him.”
I groaned. Shivering squids,
not another inventor! Now I’d have to deal
with two of them. Who knew what dangerous
inventions
they would make me try out?
Faster!
Hee hee!
MISSION TO OOFADALE!
Squeak!
I really didn’t want
to be a part of this miceking mission!
But I had no choice.
“I have made my decision!”
Sven
thundered. “Tomorrow we will set sail
for Oofadale at dawn. But I will not be
leaving this mission in the clumsy paws
of you two cheeseheads.” He
pointed to Trap and me.
“You won’t?” I asked.
“Of course not!” Sven shouted. “I
will
lead
the mission. You two will
accompany me. And we will need a team
of brave warriors to go
with us.”
He started pointing to different micekings.
“You! Prepare the barrels of finnbrew
and the crates of anchovies!” he ordered.
“You! Pack the wheels of cheese!
29
MISSION TO OOFADALE!
“You, you, and you, go shine the helmets
and the shields!
“You, go polish the Mouseborg coat
of arms until it glows like the sun! This
expedition will be made in grand
miceking style!”
The micekings all replied together,
“So says sven the shouter!”
30
Ready to Set
Sail, Blubber
Heads?
I had trouble falling asleep that night. My
whiskers trembled
at the dangers we
might encounter.
How, how,
how did I
always end up in
these situations?
When the
rooster
crowed at dawn, I
put my head under
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
31
Ready to Set Sail, Blubber Heads?
the covers. I didn’t want to go. I was a
smarty-mouseking, not a warrior!
Then I heard a knock on my door. It
was Trap.
“Geronimoooo!
Come on, Cousin! It’s time to begin our great
mission!” he shouted.
I tried to get out of it. “Um, I can’t find
my boots anywhere. You go without me, and
I’ll meet up with you in Oofadale.”
“I can tell when you’re lying, Cousin,”
Trap said. “Open the door!”
I quickly thought of more excuses. “No,
I woke up with a terrible stomachache
and I have to run to the bathroom. And . . .
ACHOO! I think I also caught a miceking
cold, and I don’t want to get everyone sick!”
Trap still didn’t believe me. “No more
excuses, Cousin. You don’t want to
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Get a move on!
Ready to Set Sail, Blubber Heads?
make Sven angry, do you?” he asked.
By my whiskers, I certainly
didn’t want to make our village chief
angry! At the thought of Sven shouting
at me, I got up and got dressed. As soon as I
opened the door, Trap grabbed me by the
paw and dragged me along with
READY TO SET SAIL, BLUBBER HEADS?
him. He didn’t even give me a
chance to
grab my backpack!
“Let’s hurry, Cousin! They’re waiting for
us!” Trap squealed.
He was right. When we reached
Ready to Set Sail, Blubber Heads?
the port, we found micekings loading up two
drekars for the long voyage. Others
were rubbing the ships’ hulls with codfish
oil.
I gazed up at the towering ships. Sven
Ready to Set Sail, Blubber Heads?
commanded the majestic Miceking
Hero. It was adorned with his official
emblems. I tried to go on board, but a
mouseking stopped me.
“Halt! There’s no
more room!” he said,
holding up a paw. “Find
another ship.”
The next ship was the
No room!
Scourge of the North Sea,
with a fearsome
dragon on its prow.
But another mouseking stopped me there.
“SCRAM, smarty-
mouseking. We’re full!
There’s no more room!”
“Not even for a small
mouseking like me?” I
pleaded.
Scram!
36
Then Sven shouted
from the prow of his
ship,
“micekings,
set sail!”
Off we go!
I have to hurry!
Ready to Set Sail, Blubber Heads?
I had one choice left . . . and I didn’t
like it! The only drekar left was the Bated
Breath, the shaky tub that belonged to
Olaf the Reckless.
And I get drekar-sick!
“Hop on board!” Olaf called out. “Don’t
Oh no . . .
Hurry up, cabin boy!
Ready to Set Sail, Blubber Heads?
you want a free ride?”
I gave in and climbed on board. Then we
set sail for Oofadale, the home of the
Oofa Oofa!
Dragon Attack!
Olaf put me to work. After I had organized
our cheese supplies and cleaned the
deck, he sent me up to the main mast to be
the lookout.
Me, who is AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!
The journey started off smoothly, and
a breeze pushed us forward. After a
while, though, the sky began to darken.
A strange, oddly shaped cloud was floating
toward us.
Was there a storm coming?
The cloud came closer . . . and holey
cheese, it wasn’t a storm cloud at all! It
was much worse!
“Dragon attack!” I shrieked.
I see something!
What a strange cloud . . .
Dragon Attack!
The micekings on all three ships rushed
to take up their shields, bows, and
arrows. Four dragons swooped down
on us. We could smell their swampy stink
and see the smoke coming from their
nostrils.
An orange dragon with a very, very
long tongue licked his fangs.
“Purple Beard, look at all that fresh
miceking meat!” he called out to his
friend.
“You’re right, Blue Tail!” the other dragon
called back. “We could gobble one for a
sssnack and take the othersss back to
Beastgard!”
“Sizzle the cook makesss a great
miceking ssstew!” said Blue Tail.
“I prefer them roasssted,” said Purple
Beard.
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Tasty!
Micekings!
Sven raised his fist in the air. “You won’t
get a taste of us, you ugly lizards!
Micekings, ATTACK!”
All of the micekings threw themselves
into the battle, fighting off the
dragons. Well, almost all. I stayed in the
crow’s nest, so I wouldn’t
get in anybody’s way.
Then the LOOKOUT on the Scourge
43
We’re cooked!
Attack!
For Mousegard!
Take that!
Hey, ugly!
Dragon Attack!
of the North Sea called out to me.
“Catch this net, smarty-mouseking!”
He tossed me one end of the net.
“This is no time to go fishing!” I called
back.
But I caught the end of the net anyway,
and it hung between the two ships.
We’ve got him!
Dragon Attack!
Whoosh! A red dragon swooped
down and flew right into it! He got all
tangled up in the net!
“Hooray! One down!” the
other lookout and I shouted.
Meanwhile, the battle with the other
dragons continued.
Yes!
I’m trapped!
Dragon Attack!
Some micekings fought bravely with
bows and arrows.
Others used long oars to fend
off the dragons.
Still others BLASTED them with
jets of icy water from the North Sea.
Everyone knows that dragons hate clean,
cold water!
But as bravely as we fought, we were no
match for the enormouse, strong dragons.
And there, out in the open ocean, we
had no place to take shelter!
I scanned the horizon, looking for some
sign of land.
I spotted a FOGGY patch of sky not
far off. And as a scholarly mouseking, I
knew that Oofadale was almost always
surrounded by fog.
Holey cheese, we were close!
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Dragon Attack!
If we could make it to shore, we could
take shelter and be safe! I had to think of
something, fast!
Forward,
Micekings!
I quickly came up with a fabumouse plan:
We could row at TOP SPEED until
we were HIDDEN in the fog. But how
could I let the others know? It wasn’t easy to
be heard over the loud sounds of battle.
But I tried.
“We must go into the
fog!” I shouted.
“Geronimo, don’t be a blubber
head! Now is not the time to sit
on a log!” Sven shouted back. He had
misunderstood me!
So I tried to act it out. I made rowing
motions with my arms.
“By my beard! This is not the time to
50
Forward, Micekings!
exercise, smarty-mouseking!” Sven shouted.
He just didn’t get it!
I had to leave my safe perch. I
scurried down the mast and
found Olaf and Trap.
They don’t understand!
Forward, Micekings!
I quickly explained my idea.
“GOOD THINKING, smarty-
mouseking!” Olaf agreed.
We ran to the oars.
“MICEKINGS, FULL SPEED
AHEAD!” Olaf commanded.
The Bated Breath bolted forward. The
crews on the other two drekars guessed our
plan and followed in our wake toward the
fog.
“What do those tasssty mouthfulsss think
they’re doing?” Purple Beard asked.
“They won’t essscape usss!” said Blue
Tail.
Purple Beard roared, “Follow them, fassst!”
Luckily, though, the north wind
Forward, Micekings!
started to blow toward Oofadale,
and helped us go even faster! Soon we were
immersed in a fog as dense as ricotta
cheese.
Straight ahead!
Faster!
Forward, Micekings!
“By my breath, I can’t sssee a thing!” Blue
Tail moaned.
“I think I sssee a drekar in front of me!”
said Purple Beard. “Let me blassst it with
my fiery breath!”
He shot a blast of flame into the fog.
“Hey!” cried Blue Tail. “You ssscorched
my tail!”
I can’t sssee!
Ow! My tail!
Zzzzzzzzzzz!
Zzzzzzzzzzz!
The dragons kept bumping into each other,
and we kept sailing through the fog.
Luckily, we quickly arrived at the port of
Oofadale.
We tied up the drekars at the dock and
set out in search of the village chief, Yan
the Yawner.
We passed by many of the Oofa Oofa,
but they were all asleep. They always
nap in the afternoon. And in the
morning time. And at noon . . . They
are known for being very sleepy
micekings!
“Where is Yan the Yawner?” Sven
asked one of the Oofa Oofa.
55
Oofadale: The Village
of the Oofa Oofa
OOFADALE is a village on the southern coast of Miceking
Island. It is almost always engulfed in thick fog. It’s a boring
place where nothing ever (well, almost ever) happens.
The micekings in this village call themselves the
Oofa Oofa. They’re generally very sleepy and
don’t get much done during the day. Their
official cheese is Sluggozola, which takes a
long, long, long, long time to ripen.
Zzzzzzzzzzz! Zzzzzzzzzzz!
“Answer Sven the Shouter!”
the micekings yelled.