Akiko and her crew - Spuckler Boach, Mr. Beeba, Poog, and Gax - have faced dangers unimaginable to the average fourth-grade earthling. Now their mission is finally coming to an end. At last they've reached the castle of Alia Rellapor - but that doesn't mean that things have gotten any easier. The castle is heavily guarded by robots and getting inside won't be easy.
Akiko in the Castle of Alia Rellapor marks the final installment in Mark Crilley's interplanetary series. Fourth grader Akiko and her crew at long last make it to the castle where Prince Froptoppit is imprisoned. But unforeseen problems threaten the mission, including a meeting face to face with Alia Rellapor herself (and her secret identity is revealed). Crilley's b&w illustrations, reminiscent of Japanese anime, pepper the pages. (Sept.) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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Delacorte Books for Young Readers
November 12, 2002
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Adobe DRM EPUB
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Excerpt from Akiko in the Castle of Alia Rellapor by Mark Crilley
The snow crunched loudly beneath our feet. Spuckler Boach was out in front, whistling a cheerful little tune, while Mr. Beeba huffed and puffed along, great clouds of breath trailing behind his bright yellow tufts of hair. Poog, his custom-made coat snugly concealing most of his round little body, floated steadily by my shoulder like some kind of alien bodyguard. And just behind me, rolling and squeaking over the surface of the snow on his four rusty wheels, was Spuckler's robot, Gax. We must have made a pretty funny-looking group.
The morning sky was a bright, cloudless blue. It stretched from snow-covered hills on one side of us to jagged purple peaks on the other. Judging by the steep incline of the road, we were heading into the mountains. A bracing cold breeze blew directly into our faces, making me wish we could head in the opposite direction and somehow still get where we wanted to go.
"There ain't nothin' like fresh mountain air," Spuckler said. "Really gets the blood curdling!"
"Curdling?" Mr. Beeba wheezed. "I don't know what word you're searching for, Spuckler," he added, gasping for breath, "but it's surely not curdling."
"Yeah, whatever," Spuckler replied.
Lacking the energy to join in the argument, I stayed quiet and just let my thoughts roll around in my head. I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I decided I'd try to figure out how many days I'd been here on the planet Smoo.
Let's see, now . . .