The Explorers’ Gate (8 page)

“How?”

“If I quit, my followers will have nothing left to fight for.”

“You're really going to withdraw from the competition? Before the first round?”

Loki nodded vigorously because he couldn't bring himself to utter the word “Yes.”

“It's what my father should have done! Quit before he even started.”

“I'll help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you,” he gushed. “Bless you. Please, follow me.”

“Where to?”

He pointed toward the wall of stone rising up in front of us. “My humble abode. Inside, I have a direct connection to Kroll's castle. You will help me speak the words I fear I may not be able to say without your assistance.”

“This is a very noble thing you're about to do.”

“I know. Quickly then. Let's get this over with!”

He led me down a hard-packed footpath to the face of the rocky outcropping and rapped lightly on a crack in the schist. The split widened, creating a slender doorway into the darkness.

“This way,” said Loki.

Flickering light illuminated the passageway up ahead as the stone door slid shut behind us.

“Follow me,” said Loki, sounding much cheerier than he had outside.

We walked down a narrow, lantern-lit tunnel. I had to duck so I didn't scrape my head against the ceiling. Judging from the pits and dimples scarring the walls, this passageway had been chiseled through the rock with very crude troll tools. It wasn't much wider than an old-fashioned phone booth.

“Uh, where exactly are we?”

“This is the Stone Palace, given to Lord Lorkus and his descendants as a consolation prize for losing the crown, which, by the way, comes with a very nice castle. I have lived here in gloomy obscurity for decades. First with my father, who took to drowning his sorrows with hogsheads of beer and ale.”

I could relate.

“Now, in my insulting position as High Commissioner of Sewers and Drainpipes.”

We stepped into a murky chamber. I couldn't make out much, but it appeared to be a circular room with a domed ceiling. Loki clapped his hands.

Torches flared to life.

A dozen blubbery kabouters encircled us.

I recognized one: Globbo. The lawn-mowing maniac. A lumpy burlap sack was resting on the ground near his muddy shoes.

“Look what I just found, lads,” Loki proclaimed. “One of the late king's tiresome spies!”

Twelve grubby little men with filthy beards grunted at me with glee.

“Wait a second,” I said. “I'm not a spy!”

“I stand corrected,” said Loki. “Miss Van Wyck is not a spy, she is a despicable liar!”

“What? You're the liar!”

“Well, of course I am, dearie. Lying is a prerequisite for any king.”

“What? You said you didn't want to be king.”

“I know. See how good I am at telling fibs?”

“But …”

“A true leader must possess a certain talent for misleading his subjects, child. When times are bad, he must smile and pretend they are actually good. When there is nothing to fear, he must manufacture a threat to unite his kingdom behind a common, if artificially contrived, cause!” He gestured at my slopped-over ski cap. “Kindly straighten your hat in my home.”

I ignored his request.

“You heard him, sister,” snapped Globbo. “Fix your freaking hat!”

I didn't budge.

Loki seethed. Rage roiled up into his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Then he smiled.

“Of course, a king must also be willing to compromise. Negotiate.” He snapped his fingers.

Globbo pulled a jagged-edged blade from his belt and stabbed it into the burlap sack nestled near his feet.

A mountain of gold coins cascaded out.

“That is for you and your father, Nikki. All of it.”

“What for?”

“Well, I suppose your father would use his share to purchase more beer. You could use yours to buy all the things you can't currently afford. Fashionable clothes. A cell phone. Even a very thick milkshake at the Shake Shack, whenever you want one.”

“No. I mean,
why
are you offering me money? What do you want in return?”

“Ah! Something quite simple, really. A small favor.”

“What do you want?”

“Willem.”

“Why do you want him?”

“Well, dear, one way for me to insure that I will assume my rightful place upon the throne is to eliminate my only competition.”

“But Willem's not a prince. He's just a kid.”

“Oh, let's not play games. You know Willem is King Kroll's eldest son and designated heir!”

Actually, I didn't know that. I thought he was Garrett Vanderdonk's brother.

“I … I …” I was confused.

“Go ahead,” said Loki. “Think about it. Take your time.”

He tapped his foot.

“Time's up.”

“I can't,” I muttered.

“Oh, I believe you can. All you need to do is bring him to an isolated spot in the park. Certain friends of mine will take care of the rest.”

Yeah,
I thought.
Friends with mohawks, knives, and scars.

“I'm waiting, Nikki. Patiently, if I do say so myself.”

“You're right, I guess. I
can
betray Willem.”

“Excellent. They told me you were intelligent, although, I must say, following a stranger into a dark cave shows a certain lack of, shall we say, ‘street smarts.' Now then …”

I cut him off: “I
can
, meaning ‘I am able to.' But I won't. Sorry I used the wrong verb the first time. My bad.”

“You can help me but you won't?”

“Okay, we'll go with that.”

Loki scooped up some coins and let them dribble through his fingers. “Your father is a very thirsty man, Nikki. Perhaps you should reconsider.”

“Nope.”

Rage reddened his face again. “Why not?”

“King Kroll went to my mother and father's wedding.”

“Foolish, sentimental little girl. Fine. So be it. There is more than one way for me to predetermine the outcome of this contest. Did you know that Prince Willem and the muscle-bound Vanderdonk boy failed six times in their crown-hunting practice sessions before they finally found you? Without you leading the way, those two imbeciles couldn't find a crown if it was glued to their heads. Come Tuesday night, if you, for some reason, were unable to participate in the final round, your new friends will not stand a chance!”

The circle of grimy little men with boogers caked on their noses tightened around me.

“So you're going to kill me instead of Willem?”

“Kill you? Hmmm. Although I see some merit in your suggestion, Miss Van Wyck, there's really no need for such theatrics when all we need to do is lock you away until Wednesday morning.”

“If I don't come home tonight, my father will call the police!”

“Doubtful. Our friends will make certain your father never knows you're gone. A few extra cases of beer is all it should take, don't you agree?”

“You're a horrible, deceitful, despicable creature.”

“I know. Won't I make the most magnificent king? Lock her away, gentlemen!”

“Which cage, boss?” asked Globbo.

Loki stroked his goatee. “Hmmm. I think the one with the snakes in the ceiling.”

I grimaced.

“Or perhaps the bats?”

I almost threw up.

Loki grinned. “Yes! Of course.
The bats!
”

I was taken to a prison cell carved out of stone.

Globbo slammed the steel door shut. I heard a rusty key twist. A heavy lock shut with a
thunk
.

Fluttering light streamed into the dank chamber from a barred skylight in the ceiling. On the floor, in the wavering shadows, I saw a grate, about two feet square. It reminded me of the drain where Balto had found that first clue for our make-believe Crown Quest.

I never should've gone into the park with Garrett and Willem. I wouldn't have been in such a mess if I hadn't listened to the wind chimes and the magic garbage can.

Stay where your feet are,
I told myself because my mother used to say the same thing to me whenever I started beating myself up about mistakes I had made.
Forget the past. Live in the moment.

Okay.

At the moment, I was locked inside a dungeon cell with really bad lighting. The flickering shadows were driving me batty.

Uh-oh.

I looked up at the skylight. Heard wings flapping. Assorted squeaks.

There was a very good reason the light was so riddled with shadows: A flock of bats, some with wingspans three feet wide, was swooping around in the chamber above mine. One bat was dangling upside down from a bar in the skylight, staring at me with huge Chihuahua-like eyes.

My mom, dad, and I once went camping upstate and discovered that a bat had somehow checked into the rustic cabin before we did and, when we flicked on the lights and spooked him, the fuzzy thing started flapping around the room in crazy circles until, finally, he dive-bombed me and got caught in my hair, which I have always worn really, really long.

I still have nightmares.

At least I now knew where my prison was located:
underneath
the Central Park Zoo. To escape, I'd have to somehow scale the slick stone walls, crawl through the skylight, and battle my way through my worst fear—flying rodents.

Or, I could just sit there and wait until Wednesday when the newly crowned King Loki would tell Globbo, who'd probably be promoted to Duke of Puke, to let me out.

I sat down on the cold stone floor.

To be totally honest, I still wasn't that keen on becoming deeply involved in the whole kabouter power struggle. Yes, my mother might've wanted me to do it, but she wouldn't have wanted me to get myself killed in the process.

So, I decided I'd just wait. Hide in the corner. Not cause any trouble.

Hey, it worked for me at school.

About an hour later, the steel drain in the floor started to screech up.

I scooted deeper into the darkness.

“Ooof!”

The iron grill went flying up into the air and landed with a wobbling clamor. I tucked in my knees and covered up my head.

“Hiya, Nikki!”

I opened an eye.

Half of Garrett Vanderdonk was poking up out of the floor. He was sopping wet.

“Whoo!” he said, fanning the air near his nose. “You have no idea what's in the sewers underneath a zoo!” He took in a deep breath. “Ahh. This dungeon smells
soooo
much better.”

He hauled himself up into the cell.

“How'd you know where to find me?” I asked.

“Easy. Willem told the Indian Hunter and his dog to keep an eye on you this morning.”

The Indian Hunter is a bronze statue of a stealthy Lakota hunter, bow and arrow in hand, his faithful hunting dog at his side, as they close in on their prey.

So that's who had been following me through the darkness this morning near the softball fields!

“Of course, the hunter had to jump back into his shell before the sun came up,” Garrett continued, “so
he
told Thomas Moore to keep an eye on you, since Moore's bronze bust is right near the Pond and he could do it after the sun came up without leaving his home base.”

“But how …”

“Moore saw Loki escort you toward the rock cliff near Green Gap Arch.”

“His secret cave.”

Garrett laughed. “It's not
that
secret, Nikki! Willem knew exactly where Loki was taking you because King Kroll gave these caverns to Lord Lorkus back in the early '80s.”

“So how'd you crawl into, you know, the zoo sewer?”

“Well, Willem assembled the Royal Corps of Engineers the instant he heard you were in trouble.”

“Because he needs me for round three, right?”

Garrett's face scrunched into crinkles as he thought about that. “No. He said he was worried about you and that it was our fault for dragging you into this mess in the first place so we had better be the ones to drag you out of it.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, the engineers consulted the Field Drainage Plans …”

“The map on your grandfather's wall!”

“Really? Huh. I never noticed. See the wee people use the drainpipes under Central Park as a subway system but, instead of electric trains, they use canal boats like people do in Amsterdam. I volunteered to come rescue you. They mapped out a route through pipes wide enough for me to swim through. Polar bears, sea lions, or snow monkeys?”

“What?”

“Just need to know which exit pipe we should take. Sea lions would be best. The glass wall around their tank is the easiest to climb. But if you want to see the polar bears while we're here, that's cool.”

I was smiling again. “No. Let's get out as quickly as we can. The sea lions' tank is fine.”

“Okay. You might want to hold your breath.”

“Do we have to swim under water?”

“No. But, have you ever smelled sea lion poop? Woo! Very fishy.”

When we climbed out of the sea lions' swimming pool in the zoo's central courtyard, several kids were gawking at us.

Because it was the middle of the day. The zoo was full of families.

So Garrett did something extremely clever. He pulled out a quarter and said, “Aw, this is a Nebraska. We need Tennessee! Let's go check out the coins in some of the other fountains.”

Yes, Garrett (who wasn't the dumb jock I had first thought him to be) was pretending that we had just jumped into the sea lion tank to retrieve a collectible quarter someone had tossed into it. This being New York City, nobody thought that was strange. Our crowd just shrugged and went back to popping peanuts and licking ice-cream cones.

“Well done,” I whispered.

“Thanks. Come on. We need to take the long way around to the exit so the concrete eagles don't see us.”