47 - Legend of the Lost Legend (3 page)

Marissa hung back. “Not without Dad,” she insisted. “We can’t.”

“But someone is trying to help us!” I cried. “Someone knows where the Lost
Legend is. They sent the dog to bring us.”

“It may be a trap,” Marissa insisted. “Some kind of evil trick.”

“But, Marissa—”

I searched through the fog. Where was the dog? I could barely see him. He had
reached the trees on the far side of the clearing.

“Remember the story Dad tells about the forest imp?” Marissa asked. “The imp
puts out a trail of flowers and candy in the forest. And when children follow
the trail, it leads them into The Pit With No Bottom. And the kids fall and fall
for the rest of their lives. Remember?”

“Marissa—please!” I begged. “No more stories. Silverdog is getting away.”

“But—but—” she sputtered. “Dad wouldn’t want us to go wandering off on our
own in the forest. You
know
he wouldn’t. We’ll be in real trouble.”

“What if we found the Lost Legend?” I replied. “Then what? Then we wouldn’t
be in trouble—
would
we!”

“No! No way!” Marissa protested, folding her arms over her chest. “We can’t
go. No way, Justin.”

I sighed and shook my head. “I guess you’re right,” I said softly. “Let the
dog go on its way. Let’s get some sleep.”

I put my hand on her shoulder and led her back to the tent.

“Are you
crazy
?” Marissa cried. She spun away from me. “We can’t let
the dog get away! It may lead us right to the Lost Legend!”

She grabbed my hand, gave me a hard tug, and started to run, pulling me
across the clearing.

As I ran after her, I tried hard not to let her see the big smile on my face.
I
knew
my little trick would work with Marissa. It always does.

If I ever really want to do something, all I have to say is, “Let’s not do
it.”

Marissa always disagrees with me. Always.

That makes it very easy to get her to do what I want.

“Dad said we weren’t being helpful,” she murmured. “He was giving us a hard
time because we wouldn’t find firewood. What if we find the Lost Legend? Then
we’ll be helping him—big-time!”

“Big-time,” I repeated.

I pictured Marissa and me handing Dad the silver chest containing the Lost
Legend. I pictured the shock on Dad’s face. Then I pictured his smile.

Then I pictured the three of us on the TV news shows. I imagined myself
telling everyone how Marissa and I found the valuable old manuscript—without
any help from Dad.

My boots clumped over the soft ground. I stopped when we reached the trees.

“There’s just one problem,” I told Marissa.

She spun around. “What’s that?”

“Where’s the dog?”

“Huh?” She turned back to the trees.

We both searched the darkness.

The dog had disappeared.

The fog clung to the dark trees. Clouds still covered the moon.

Marissa and I peered into the darkness, listening hard.

I sighed. I felt so disappointed. “I think our adventure is over before it
even started,” I murmured.

Wrong.

A loud bark made us both jump. “Hey—!” I cried out.

Silverdog barked again. He was calling us!

We stepped between the trees, following the sound.

My boots sank into the soft dirt. Under the tall trees, the sky grew even
darker.

“Stick close together,” Marissa pleaded. “It’s so hard to see.”

“We should have brought a flashlight,” I replied. “We left in such a hurry, I
didn’t think—”

A loud crackling sound made me stop. The crisp thud of paws over dead leaves.

“This way,” I urged Marissa. I turned toward the sound. “Silverdog is right
up ahead.”

I still couldn’t see the dog. But I could hear his footsteps over the dry
twigs and leaves of the forest floor.

The dog had turned to the left, following a narrow path through the trees.
The ground beneath my boots became hard. We both raised our arms in front of our
faces as we stepped through a thicket of brambles.

“Ouch!” I cried out as prickly thorns pierced through the sleeve of my
sweatshirt.

“Where is that dog taking us?” Marissa asked shrilly. I knew she was trying
to sound calm. But I could hear the fear creep into her voice.

“He’s taking us to someone who wants to help us,” I reminded her. “He’s
taking us to someone who is going to make us rich and famous.

“Ow!” I pulled a burr from my wrist.

I hoped I was right. I hoped that the note didn’t lie. I hoped that the dog
was taking us someplace nice.

The footsteps turned sharply up ahead. I couldn’t see a path now. Actually, I
couldn’t see three feet in front of me!

We kept our arms in front of us, using them as shields. And we pushed our way
through a thicket of tall weeds.

“He’s speeding up,” Marissa whispered.

She was right. I could hear the dog’s footsteps moving more rapidly over the
ground.

Marissa and I began jogging, eager to keep up. Over our own crunching
footsteps, I could hear the dog breathing hard.

The flutter of wings—
many
wings, low overhead—made me duck.

“Were those birds?” Marissa cried. She swallowed hard. And then she added,
“Or bats?”

I could still hear the fluttering, in the distance now. The sound sent a
chill down my back.

So many flapping wings!

“They were birds,” I told Marissa. “They had to be birds.”

“Since when do birds fly like that at night?” she demanded.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I listened for the dog’s footsteps up ahead. They
seemed to be slowing down.

We followed the sound through an opening between tall bushes. And stepped
into a broad, grassy clearing.

As we made our way into the grass, the clouds floated away from the moon.
Under the moonlight, dew-covered grass shimmered like diamonds.

I gazed up from the grass—and gasped in horror.

Marissa grabbed my arm. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“I don’t believe it!” I cried.

I stared at the creature standing a few yards up ahead of us.

Not the dog.

Not Silverdog.

A brown-and-black-spotted deer. A stag with antlers that curled up from his
head and gleamed in the moonlight.

We had followed the wrong animal.

And now we were hopelessly lost.

The big deer stared at us. Then he turned and trotted across the grass, into
the trees on the other side.

Frozen in shock, I watched him disappear. Then I turned to my sister. “We—we made a bad mistake,” I managed to choke out. “I thought it was the dog. I
really did.”

“Let’s not panic,” Marissa said. She huddled close to me.

A gust of wind made the tall grass whisper and bend. I heard a low moaning
sound from the trees behind us. I tried to ignore it.

“You’re right. We won’t panic,” I agreed. But my legs were shaking, and my
mouth suddenly felt as dry as cotton.

“We’ll go back the way we came,” Marissa said. “We didn’t walk that far. It
shouldn’t be too hard to retrace our steps.” She glanced around. “Which way did
we come?”

I spun around. “That way?” I pointed. “No. That way? No…”

I wasn’t sure.

“Maybe we should panic,” I said.

“Why did we
do
this?” Marissa wailed. “Why were we so stupid?”

“We thought we were helping Dad,” I reminded her.

“Now we may never see him again!” she cried.

I wanted to say something to calm her down. But the words caught in my
throat.

“This forest goes on for miles and miles!” Marissa continued. “The whole
country is probably forest. We’ll never find
anyone
who can help us.
We-we’ll probably be eaten by bears or something before we ever get out.”

“Don’t say bears,” I begged. “There aren’t any bears in this forest—are
there?”

I shuddered. Dad had told us too many stories that ended with children being
eaten by bears. That seemed to be one of Dad’s favorite endings.

It was never one of mine.

The wind bent the grass back the other way. In the far distance, I heard the
flutter of wings once again.

And over the whisper of the wings, I heard another sound.

A dog bark?

Was I imagining it?

I listened hard. And heard it again. Yes!

I turned and saw the happy expression on Marissa’s face. She heard it too.
“It’s Silverdog!” she cried. “He’s calling us!”

“Let’s go!” I exclaimed.

I heard another long series of barks. The dog was definitely calling us.

We spun around and ran toward the sound.

Ran back into the trees. Ran through the tall bushes. Leaped over fallen
logs. Ran to the barking.

Ran.

Ran full speed.

Until the ground suddenly gave way.

A hole opened up beneath us.

And we started to fall.

“Nooooooo!” I let out a long, terrified wail. “It’s The Pit With No Bottom!”

I landed hard on my elbows and knees.

“Ooof!” I let out a groan as my face hit wet dirt.

A bottom.

A very
hard
bottom.

I glanced over at Marissa. She was already climbing to her feet. She brushed
dirt and dead leaves off the knees of her jeans.

“What did you yell?” she asked. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Uh… nothing,” I mumbled. “Just yelled.”

I glanced up. Marissa and I had tumbled down a short, steep hill. We’d fallen
maybe three or four feet.

Not exactly a bottomless pit.

I brushed myself off, hoping Marissa couldn’t see how embarrassed I felt.

When we climbed back to the top, Silverdog was waiting for us. The dog raised
his head and stared at us with his brown and blue eyes—as if to say, “What is your problem? Why can’t you two jerks keep up with me?”

As soon as we joined him at the top of the hill, the big dog turned and loped
off, wagging his furry white tail. Every few steps, he glanced back to make sure
we were following.

I still felt kind of shaky from the fall. Even though it was such a short
drop, I had banged my knees pretty hard. They still ached. My heart still raced.

Dad and his crazy stories, I thought, shaking my head. The Pit With No Bottom… why would I even
think
such a crazy thought?

Well… what could be crazier than following a big white dog through a
Brovanian forest in the middle of the night?

Maybe Marissa and I will have a legend to tell our friends when we’re
finished, I thought. “The Legend of the Two Incredibly Stupid Kids.”

Or, maybe we’ll find the silver chest containing the Lost Legend—and be
rich and famous and make Dad proud.

These were my thoughts as my sister and I followed Silverdog along a curving
path through the forest. The dog loped easily between the trees and weeds. And
we trotted behind him, eager not to lose him again.

After a few minutes, we stepped into a large patch of tall grass. Marissa and
I stopped and watched Silverdog run across the grass, prancing, raising his legs high. He ran to a small cabin on the other side of the
grass.

The cabin stood silvery gray under the moonlight. It had one narrow door and
one square window under a slanted red roof.

A stone fireplace stood beside the cabin. Some kind of barbecue grill, I
guessed. Beside the fireplace, I saw a low pile of firewood, neatly stacked.

I could see no lights on inside the cabin. No sign that anyone lived there.

Silverdog pranced up to the tiny building, pushed in the door with his snout,
and disappeared inside.

Marissa and I hesitated at the edge of the clearing. We watched the cabin,
waiting for someone to come out. The door remained half-open.

We took a few steps closer. “This is where he wanted to bring us,” Marissa
murmured, her eyes on the cabin door. “Silverdog sure seemed happy to get home.
Did you see the way he strutted? Do you think the person who wants to help us is
inside?”

“Only one way to find out,” I replied.

“The cabin looks almost like a fairy-tale cabin,” Marissa said. “Like a cabin
in one of Dad’s old stories.” She laughed, a quiet dry laugh. “Maybe it’s made
out of cookies and candy.”

“Yeah. Right.” I rolled my eyes.

“Do you remember the story—?” she started.

“Please—no stories!” I begged. “Come on. Let’s check out the place.”

We stepped up to the cabin. The whole building was only a few feet taller
than we were!

“Hello?” I called.

No answer.

“Anyone home?” I called, a little louder.

No answer.

I tried one more time. “Hello? Anyone in there?” I shouted, cupping my hands
around my mouth.

I pushed open the door. Marissa followed me inside.

We found ourselves in a warm kitchen. Light from a candle on a small table
flickered over the wall. I saw a crusty loaf of bread on the sink counter. A
carving knife beside it.

I saw a big black pot simmering on a wood-burning stove. It sent a sweet,
tangy aroma floating through the room.

I didn’t have time to see anything else.

As I took one step into the small kitchen, a figure burst in from a back
room.

A very large woman wearing a long, flowing, gray dress.

She had flashing, bright green eyes. Blond bangs fell across her forehead,
and long braids hung down the sides of her round-cheeked face.

She wore a helmet over her head. A cone-shaped helmet with two horns poking
up from the sides. Like a Viking from long ago. Or someone in an opera.

Her arms were big, with powerful muscles. She had sparkling rings on every
finger. A round, jeweled medallion swung heavily over her chest.

She dove quickly past Marissa and me, her green eyes wild, her mouth twisted
in an evil grin.