The Explorers’ Gate (11 page)

“Yes, indeed, your Excellency,” said Loki. “And, might I add, your chest is looking quite muscular this evening. Have you been working out of late?”

“Loki, do not attempt to influence me with foolish flattery! Bowlers to your balls! We will roll ten frames.”

I followed Willem as he strode over to his giant wooden bowling ball. It looked like it weighed a ton.

“Can you even budge that thing?” I asked.

“Of course. Kabouters are seven times stronger than humans.”

“Lord Loki shall roll first!” declared Mazzini.

With a loud grunt, Loki shoved his enormous wooden sphere and sent it rumbling across the Sheep Meadow like a runaway wrecking ball. Storm clouds swirled up directly over the Sheep Meadow. Lightning flashed. Thunder crackled.

Loki mowed down all nine pins.

“Nine points to Lord Loki's team!” declared Mazzini. “Prince Willem? Your roll.”

“Clarification, if you please, judge.”

“Yes, Prince Willem?”

“Must we actually ‘roll' our balls?”

“No. You may propel your ball forward by any means you desire,” said Mazzini.

“Thank you for that point of clarification.”

Then, without so much as a grunt, Willem hoisted his bowling ball up over his head like an ant carrying a canned ham. He smack-served it volleyball style, putting some spin on the ball as he sent it sailing across the green.

Thunder rumbled.

Willem's ball hit the head pin at an angle that made it topple sideways to hit the four pin, which hit the six pin, which smacked the eight, which fell against the seven, which knocked down the five, which turned the corner and whacked the three.

A few clunks later, the king pin, the red kegel in the center of the diamond, was still standing.

“
Twelve
points for Prince Willem!” said Mazzini.

“Lucky break!” sniffed Loki.

Rain began to fall in drops the size of peanuts.

But I didn't care. Neither did Garrett or Willem.

We were ahead twelve to nine.

We were going to win the first round!

By the sixth frame, we were drenched.

Willem—his beard sopping wet—kept scoring twelve points every time he bowled. At the end of the sixth frame, we had quite a lead: seventy-two to fifty-four.

“Mr. Mazzini?” Loki said to the judge. “I feel it would be prudent to postpone this evening's contest due to rain!”

Garrett laughed. “It always thunders and rains when you guys bowl! Is Loki afraid?
Bruck-bruck-bruck!
”

“Silence!” boomed Mazzini's big head. “You know the rule, Prince Loki: a Crown Quest competition is never cancelled due to inclement weather or any other unanticipated interferences!”

“But, sir, it's dangerous to play outdoors in a thunderstorm!” Loki whined.

“We play on!” decreed Mazzini.

“No matter what?”

I didn't like the way Loki said that.

“We play on! Frame seven commences, now!”

Loki bowed to the judge. “Yes, your Excellency.”

He rolled his ball and once again scored nine points.

“Hey!” shouted a distant voice with an even thicker Italian accent than the Falconer's. “Whose cat bit my friend's bird, eh?”

The life-sized statue of Christopher Columbus from over on the Mall came trotting across the Sheep Meadow. He was toting a flag, cradling a globe, and dragging all the seafaring paraphernalia from the base of his monument.

“You!” Columbus jabbed his pointy-tipped flagpole in Willem's general direction. “You hurt the bird, eh?”

“Don't let him distract you!” Garrett coached Willem.

“Do not fret, brother!” said Willem. “I am completely focused on the task at hand!” He once again tossed the ginormous wooden ball up over his head and smacked it silly.

And, once again, it went spinning like a well-thrown curve ball toward the head pin.

Columbus drop-kicked his globe and sent it soaring soccer-style at Willem's ball! When they collided, Willem's sure shot veered off its trajectory path and whiffed to the left.

It didn't knock down a single pin.

“Hey!” I shouted. “That's cheating!”

“Cheating?” scoffed Loki. “I dare say that was simply one of those ‘unanticipated interferences' Mr. Mazzini spoke of.”

“What did you bribe Columbus with to get him on your side?” demanded Garrett.

“A new location,” Loki said with a shrug. “He'd rather be in Columbus Circle than here in the park.”

The Columbus in Columbus Circle at 59
^th
Street stands at the center of the traffic circle atop a majestic granite column.

“That Columbus?” shouted this Columbus. “He has a hat!” He pointed to his own bald dome. “I want a hat!”

Loki took his turn. Added nine more points to his total.

“Do not worry,” said Willem, drying his hands on his tunic. “We will quickly ring up another twelve points!”

He heaved up another ball and sent it sailing.

Lightning flared and, off in the distance, I saw a glint of green.

Tarnished bronze.

The Falconer had retrieved Columbus's globe and now kickballed it at Willem's shot, once again knocking it off course.

“It's Monkey in the Middle!” I shouted. “They've got you surrounded!”

“Prince Willem misses again,” proclaimed Mazzini. “His score for frames seven and eight is zero!”

“They're cheating!” cried Garrett.

Columbus and the Falconer took up positions on opposite sides of the bowling lane. Columbus palmed the globe and waited for Willem's next ball.

“This is completely unfair!” Garrett screamed.

“You may, of course, appeal my ruling to the Wise Woman of the Pond,” declared Mazzini, “but I agree with Prince Loki. The actions of the Italian statuary are, like the rain, merely an unanticipated interference. The score, after eight frames, therefore, stands at 72–72

They were tied!

One more frame like this and we'd be losing. We also didn't have much time: There were only two frames left in the whole match.

“By the way, Ima Gene,” gloated Brent. “When Loki takes over, we're going to turn Central Park into a gated community. You and your kind will no longer be allowed in.”

That did it. I knew what I had to do.

“I'll be right back!” I shouted to Garrett and Willem.

I needed to create some “unanticipated interference” for our team.

Because Willem had to win at ninepin to give me a head start on tracking down the hidden crown!

“Wake up!” I yelled at the towering statue silently standing atop his granite pedestal.

“These are the same people who told those hoodlums to pull you down last night. Remember how that felt? That rope around your neck? Hello? Is anybody awake in there?”

Maybe there was only so much excess life force to go around Central Park tonight. Enough to animate a panther, a falcon, a falconer, and a crazed Christopher Columbus, but not this statue. He just stood there, eyes fixed, back stiff, rifle at rest—staring blankly toward the east.

Yes, I was talking to the mute monument memorializing the soldiers of New York's Seventh Regiment who died in the Civil War. The heroic-size replica of a Union Army soldier posed as an outpost sentry was unveiled in this hillside grove near the Sheep Meadow way back in 1874.

“They're rebels!” I shouted. “Just like that bunch you tangled with at Antietam and Fredericksburg!”

The soldier blinked.

“Where be these Johnny Rebs?” he asked in a voice scraped raw from screaming too many battle cries. “Where be the secesh?”

“Well, technically, they're rebel kabouters, not secessionists.”

“Where be they?”

“The little guy with the pointy red beard and pointy red cap on the right. His name is Loki.”

“Aye. I see him.”

Atop his elevated perch, the soldier had a clear view of everything going on in the Sheep Meadow. He also had a rifle, which he now raised to his shoulder.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Don't shoot Loki!”

“Be he the rebel leader?”

“Yeah …”

“Then, by cracky, I shall shoot him where he stands.”

He thumbed back the hammerlock trigger.

“But, if he falls,” I said, thinking as fast as I could, “someone else will rise up and take his place.”

“Then he will be the second Johnny Reb I shoot this day.”

I heard his bronze finger tighten on the trigger.

“Wait! Please! We really don't need to
kill
anybody!”

“Balderdash! This is war, lassie. Go boil your shirt if you haven't the grit for it!”

“Hold on! I think we can outsmart 'em. Employ strategy as well as tactics.”

“How? Tell me and be quick about it, lassie!”

“Okay. We just need to stop them from knocking Willem's bowling ball off course. See that bald guy holding the globe?”

“I spy a man methinks resembles Christopher Columbus.”

“That's him. But, we don't want to shoot Columbus.”

“Aye. For there would be no glorious Union to defend without Columbus having first discovered America.”

“True. But if Columbus were to fling that globe again, do you think you could shoot it out of the air?”

“Why, I could knock it into a cocked hat!” The soldier raised his rifle and squinted down the barrel. “I pray that I am not rusty, for I have been standing here on picket duty for a century and more.”

Off in the distance, I heard a
SWOOSH!

Willem had sent his bowling ball sailing again.

“Wait for it,” I said. “Steady!”

The soldier didn't flinch. Kept his rifle locked against his shoulder.

Then we heard a swift
THWICK!
as Columbus launched his heavy bronze globe.

“Fire!” shouted the soldier.

I heard the sharp report of his rifle. Smelled gunpowder.

An instant later, the bronze ball exploded in midair, allowing Willem's ball to sail on uninterrupted and, once again, bowl over the eight outside pins while leaving the kingpin standing in the center of the diamond. We scored another whopping 12 points.

“Who blew up that ball?” I heard Loki shout. “Foul! Foul!”

“Well done, soldier!”

“Thankee, miss.”

Loki quit screaming long enough to roll his final ball and score another nine points.

“Final ball, Prince Willem!” I heard Mazzini decree.

Willem hoisted his tenth ball into the air, gave it a smack, sent it soaring.

This time, Columbus hurled his flagpole—pitched it like a well-chucked spear.

“Fire!” I shouted.

“Fire!” The soldier squeezed off another round, which shattered the flagpole, turning it into a cloud of glittering dust.

“Hey!” Loki shouted. “That's cheating!”

“Another hit! Well done, soldier.”

“Bully for me,” he said. “That'll teach these muggins to loop a noose around my neck!”

Willem's final ball knocked down all eight pins and, once again, left the kingpin standing.

The thunderstorm ended, the sky cleared, and Mazzini announced the score: “Willem ninety-eight, Loki ninety!”

“Willem won!” I squealed.

“Bully for him!” said my new friend. “Bully!”

“Bully for you, too, sir.” But the soldier didn't hear me.

He was frozen again, ready to stand guard for another century—or until duty once again called—whichever came first.

“Team Willem wins!” declared the bust of Mazzini.

“They cheated!” protested Loki. “Hiring mercenary soldiers to take up arms is against all the rules.”

“The Civil War soldier wasn't hired,” I said. “He volunteered.”

“Enough!” said Mazzini. “I hereby declare the results of the ninepin competition to be official. As it stands, due to the difference in points earned here tonight, Team Willem will have an eight-minute head start for the Crown Quest!”

“Woo-hoo!” shouted Garrett.

I was right there with him. Eight minutes was excellent!

“Tomorrow,” said Mazzini, “Round two shall commence. A child from each team shall face off in a battle of courage and strength to see which prince possesses the fiercest defenders from the mortal realm.”

“That would be me!” boasted Brent Slicktenhorst, linking his hands together and stretching into a cocky knuckle crunch.

“Yes,” sneered Loki, “I am quite certain you can best Garrett Vanderdonk, my cousin's overgrown pet gorilla.”

Garrett smiled. “Bring it on, Brent, baby. Bring. It. On!”

“Garrett and Brent?” said the dignified bust. “You young gentlemen are to present yourselves at Bethesda Terrace tomorrow night at nine. Your referee will meet you there with further instructions. Now, go! All of you. Depart this place. For the cloaking spell will soon dissipate.”

Mazzini hobbled away, his blocky bust rocking side to side.

Loki and Brent headed east at a very fast clip.

“You need to whip them into shape!” I heard Loki say.

“Yes, sir.”

“You don't want them to be your friends; you want them to fear you.”

“Yes, sir.”

They disappeared into the trees.

“See you tomorrow, Willem,” Garrett said, shaking the little prince's hand. “Awesome job tonight, brother.”

“Truth be told, Garrett, we owe our victory to Miss Van Wyck.” He looked at me with his sparkling blue eyes. “You were extremely wise to enlist the aid of the Civil War soldier, Nikki.”

I guess I blushed. “Thanks,” I said.

Willem pulled up a grate and climbed down into a storm drain to take an underground canal boat back to his castle.

Garrett insisted on walking me home.

“Just in case Loki tries to kidnap you again.”