“Vanderdonk and Van Draaken convinced a kabouter prince named Kroll, one of the many sons of the reigning kabouter monarch in Holland, to sail with them to the New World. Kroll, being brave and eager for adventure—and with absolutely no hope of becoming Kabouter King in Holland because of his six older brothers—quickly agreed.
“When they docked in New Amsterdam, Kroll became the first monarch to reign in what would eventually become New York City. On that same sailing ship came a host of intrepid and skilled kabouters—farm workers, milliners, blacksmiths—all the small helpers the struggling Dutch colonists needed to finally prosper in this strange new land!”
Merry music filled the air as cartoon kabouters eagerly helped Dutch settlers chop trees, milk cows, and build homes.
“But, of course, King Kroll the First could not live forever.”
The music became very sad and somber. But only for like five seconds.
“And so, the first Crown Quest commenced under the guidance of the Witte Wieven, mystical creatures of the misty lowland bogs who had travelled to the New World on the same ship with Kroll and the others, making the transatlantic voyage in rain barrels.
“The contest was wisely divided into three parts. First, ninepin bowling, to demonstrate skill and strategy while paying homage to the kabouter’s old-world heritage. Second, a test of physical strength to determine which claimant to the crown had the superior human allies to help him protect and defend his realm.
“Third, and most importantly, to test both would-be kings’ wits and intelligence, riddle solving and treasure hunting. After the 1869 move to Central Park, this third part was amended by the Witte Wieven of the Lake to be a treasure hunt for the crown itself, a quest that would test the kabouter prince and his human helpers on their encyclopedic knowledge of the new kabouter sanctuary, Central Park!
“Points earned in the first two rounds—ninepin and physical defense—give the high-scoring team a coveted advantage: a head start in the race through Central Park to find the hidden crown!”
Now I was looking at jittery black-and-white footage of a boy, girl, and kabouter from 1930-something racing onto the terrace of Bethesda Fountain, holding the seven-starred kabouter crown high above their heads, and jumping for joy when they crossed the finish line.
“With you, young Dutch boy and girl, this grand tradition continues. Good luck. Enjoy your Crown Quest. And may the best team win!”
The lights came up.
“Any questions?” asked Kristinka.
“No, ma’am.”
I just hoped we could beat Loki’s team in the first two rounds. That way, if we won both ninepin and the physical defense round, we’d earn a huge head start for round three: the actual quest for the crown.
And that was the part of the contest that both Garrett and Willem were counting on me to win!
Chapter 23
When Willem, Garrett, and I met to head down to the Sheep Meadow for the ninepin competition, the tip of Willem’s curly white beard was touching his belt buckle.
“At my age,” he explained, “the whiskers sprout quickly.”
I raised my hand because I had yet another question.
“Yes?”
“If you and Loki are going to be rolling gigantic wooden balls across the Sheep Meadow in an attempt to knock down nine-foot-tall bowling pins, how can you keep this contest secret? Won’t all of New York hear it?”
“Not tonight. The Witte Wieven of the Pond have contacted the appropriate moss maidens who will invoke their ancient spells. All that we do during the games will remain unseen and unheard.”
We made our way south from the Reservoir. As we passed through a patch of evergreens, Garrett raised a hand to signal us to halt.
“Did you hear that?” he whispered.
Willem and I shook our heads.
“No,” said Willem.
“Probably nothing,” said Garrett. “Guess I’m just jumpy.”
We continued south.
After we crossed under the double-arched bridge twenty feet beneath the Explorers’ Gate, Garrett’s hand shot up again.
This time, I heard it, too.
The steady clank-clomp-clank of bronze feet.
And a low grumbling.
Not a dog growl. More of a deep and throaty purr.
“It’s on the right!” I whispered as we resumed our trek south toward the Sheep Meadow.
From the sway of branches and leaves off to our right, it was clear that some kind of crouching beast was creeping alongside us through the thicket.
Suddenly, I heard a screeching Ka-ree, ka-ree!
Several birds of prey—falcons and hawks mostly—roost at the tops of the tall buildings surrounding Central Park so they can swoop down to attack other birds, not to mention chipmunks and rodents, and haul them home for supper.
Ka-ree, ka-ree! This falcon’s call sounded shriller than most. Almost metallic.
Because there is a bronze statue of a falconer in Central Park!
A young man in Elizabethan garb—balloon pants, tights, and a feathered hat—the Falconer stands on a rock outcropping very close to where we were walking.
The statue, of course, has a bronze falcon on its arm, poised for takeoff.
“You guys,” I said, “I think there might be a falcon circling overhead.”
Our eyes shot up to the leafy blackness. I had read an article about falcons once at school. They’re unbelievably swift and awesome aerial hunters. After sighting their prey, they can zip into a steep dive that tops two hundred miles an hour.
Garrett shielded Willem. “Stay close to me,” he ordered.
“I think it’s from the falconer statue,” I said.
“Loki must have bribed him as well,” said Willem.
“Because they’re trying to stop us from making it to the Sheep Meadow on time!” said Garrett.
“Indeed. For if I do not show up promptly at nine, we will be forced to forfeit the first round.”
“Yeah, well that’s not gonna happen!” said Garrett. Without taking his eyes off the sky, he grabbed a broken branch off the ground. Following his lead, I grabbed a rock.
The next ka was followed by a much longer kreeeeee.
“Here it comes!” said Garrett, raising his stick.
The bronze bird swooped down.
Skreek!
I side-armed my rock skyward and beaned the metal birdy in its belly. I think. I closed my eyes when I chucked the rock.
“He’s circling,” said Garrett. “He’ll be back.”
Now the beast in the bushes started to move again.
But we couldn’t worry about that statue.
Big Bird was coming back for round two.
Chapter 24
I grabbed another chunk of stone.
The falcon flapped open its massive wings.
Ka-reeeeee!
I spun around. Arched my arm.
Too late.
The falcon was tearing through the branches, thorny talons extended, claws aimed at Willem!
That’s when the beast leapt up from the bushes and snagged the falcon’s claws in its fangs.
It was a big bronze cat. The statue named Still Hunt—a crouching panther poised to pounce on passing joggers that’s positioned on a rock overlooking the East Drive.
The raptor screeched, somehow tore its thorny feet free from the panther’s jaws, and zoomed away.
Still Hunt swiped at the empty air with its massive paw and growled. Satisfied that the attack bird was gone, the big cat pranced over to take the lead of our three-person pack. Apparently, the panther, like Balto the dog, was rooting for Willem’s team.
“Willem! How nice of you to join us.”
Loki was waiting for us when we reached the Sheep Meadow.
“My goodness, it’s nearly nine. We were beginning to worry!”
“I made it,” said Willem. “As did Miss Van Wyck, despite your earlier attempt to incarcerate her in your foul dungeon!”
; “What? I was simply attempting to sneak her into the zoo through the bottom of the bat cage. They charge admission, you know. Three dollars for children!”
“You’re lying!” I shouted.
“What? Have they raised the price? Why didn’t someone alert me?”
“Enough!” said Willem. “Simply know that your attempts to eliminate us from the competition have, thus far, failed miserably!”
Still Hunt growled in agreement. A few clinking feathers fluttered out of his mouth.
“Heavens,” said Loki. “Has that unruly kitty cat been destroying park property, again?”
The falconer statue came tromping out of the trees.
“Where is my pretty birdy, hunh?”
The Falconer had an Italian accent, probably because he’d been forged at a foundry in Florence.
“Where is my pretty birdy, hunh?” he repeated.
He also had a one-track mind, probably because he had a copper-alloy brain.
“I’m gonna tell my friend Christopher. He gonna be mad!” He turned to Loki. “Hey you—where my new pants you promise me? I no like these balloon pantaloons no more.”
Loki waved his hand dismissively. “Take this chattering birdbrain away! His incessant prattling annoys me! Set up the nine pins! Summon the referee! Let the first round of the Crown Quest begin!”
Two diamonds of nine jumbo-sized bowling pins each were arrayed at the eastern end of the Sheep Meadow, about three full football-field lengths away from where we stood under a tree at the western edge of the rolling pasture.
Whatever cloaking spell the moss maidens had used, it sure seemed to be working. Towering skyscrapers twinkled all around us. But nobody noticed what we were doing. Nobody even knew we were there.
I was checking out Willem’s gigantic wooden bowling ball when who should stroll out from behind it but Brooke Billingsley’s boyfriend, Brent Slicktenhorst.
“Greetings, Ima Gene.”
“My name is Nikki. Nikki Van Wyck. It’s Dutch. Just like Slicktenhorst. Remember?”
“Riiight.”
“So, are you playing for Loki and the bad guys?”
“The bad guys? Heavens, I’m on the side of progress, Van Wyck. When Loki becomes king, he’ll be much more amenable to sharing the park’s splendor with private investors, such as Mr. Drake and my father.”
“You mean that stupid hotel Mr. Drake wants to build in the middle of Central Park?”
“Stupid? It’ll be magnificent!”
“Yeah,” I said, “for those who can afford it.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And your point is?”
Man, now I really wanted Willem to win. Central Park was supposed to be for all the people, not just the rich ones like Brent and Brooke.
The massive bronze bust of Giuseppe Mazzini, whose pedestal was close to the Sheep Meadow, over near 67th Street, arrived to referee the first round.
Mazzini had to wobble into position because he didn’t have any feet or legs. He didn’t have a torso or arms, either. He was all bushy beard, bald head, and bare chest.
“Prince Willem and Lord Loki?” he said, nobly turning his humongous, disembodied head from side to side. “You know the rules. You will be awarded one point for every pin you knock down. If, however, you knock down the eight pins surrounding the kingpin without knocking down the kingpin, you will score twelve points. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, your Honor,” said Willem.
“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!
Chapter 25
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?” d
emanded 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 59th 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.
The Explorers’ Gate Page 8