The Two Princesses of Bamarre (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

M
ERYL BEGAN TO RUN
toward the falls. Rhys picked her up and started flying with her while three gryphons attacked him. I groped in my bundle for the magic tablecloth. Meryl shouted, “Put me down! Let me fight.”

“Take her to the waterfall!” I shouted.

But he had to set her down so he could defend them both. I saw her don the magic cloak and become just a shimmer and a glimmer in the gloom before the dawn.

I ran to them while still fumbling for the tablecloth. I had almost reached them when a rock hit my shoulder. I staggered and fell. An ogre loomed over me, his face cracked in laughter.

I scrambled away. He reached for me. Missed by inches. I drew my sword. He grabbed up a boulder. I stumbled back. He raised the boulder.

He shrieked and dropped the boulder. Blood poured from his knee. I heard Meryl’s voice, “There, ogre. Run, Addie.”

I ran—to her, to the shadow she was in the cloak. The ogre raised the boulder again.

He fell, his throat cut, and I saw Rhys fly off, fighting a gryphon.

“Get Meryl,” I shouted, but he didn’t hear.

A gryphon landed on me, knocking me over. I stabbed up at it. My sword bit flesh, and then—the gryphon disappeared. I heard faint laughter.

“A specter!” Meryl breathed next to my ear. She shouted to everyone, “Some gryphons are specters.” Then, softly again, “Take care. I’m off to the waterfall.”

A shadow shifted, and she was gone. Another gryphon on me! I stabbed its belly, and it fell away, bleeding. With my other hand I kept trying to find the tablecloth.

A gryphon knocked me down. I stabbed wildly, cut a claw. The gryphon bit my cheek and pinned my sword arm with a wing. It bit again. It was eating me!

Beady, bloodshot eye. I poked it—pressed hard—felt wetness. Its head shot back. Squawks. I grabbed its neck. Squeezed. It tried to fly, dragged me instead and released my arm. I squeezed with both hands. Its wings beat at me. I hung on. Squeezed. A boulder crashed, near, so near. Still I held. Squeezed. Squeezed.

The gryphon shrieked.

I squeezed.

I heard choking. Its head drooped. I let go. It fell away.

“Meryl, I strangled a gryphon!” I yelled, although I hoped she was too far away to hear.

I reached into my bundle. At last—the tablecloth.

Another gryphon dived at me. I whipped out the cloth. “Good-table-set-thy-cloth.”

Nothing happened.

The gryphon was on me, claws in my shoulder. Words tumbled out: “Good-tablecloth-please-set-thyself.” The cloth unfolded. The gryphon stopped, its beak an inch from my bloody cheek. A roast popped out. The gryphon leaped on the food. More dishes. Another gryphon landed on the tablecloth. The swarm descended.

Where was Meryl? Had she reached the falls? Any minute the sun would rise.

I began to run. A tree trunk whizzed by my ear. Eliza loosed an arrow. An ogre dropped a boulder, slowed, fell.

Where was Meryl?

There was Gavin, halfway to the falls, fighting a gryphon. An ogre lumbered at him.

I shouted. “Gavin!”

The ogre bellowed and clawed at his own back. He turned, and I saw Meryl riding him, the cloak no longer much protection. Her sword flashed. Blood spurted from the ogre’s neck. He pitched over. She stood and ran toward the falls.

I raced to catch up. An ogre leaped between us, his head and shoulders swathed in cloud. Another cloud-ogre lurched about nearby.

Rhys hovered, just higher than the ogres’ heads, pointing his baton at one ogre, then another, wrapping them in clouds.

I ran by. An ogre came at Meryl. She stabbed him in the belly. She was laughing.

A boulder landed. Rocks flew, hit my forehead, my shoulder, my aching ribs. I reeled, couldn’t breathe.

Meryl ran to me, supported me. “Addie—”

I gasped for air. “To the falls!” I grabbed her hand.

We ran.

Rhys flew at my right, protecting us with baton and sword.

Blood in my eye. I blinked it away.

Wait, sun! Wait, dawn!

Eliza and Gavin ran at my left, thrusting, stabbing.

A gryphon swooped down on us. I stabbed. Meryl stabbed. It vanished.

I heard the waterfall.

We ran.

Meryl was laughing. “Die, monsters! Victory for Bamarre!”

I shouted too. “Victory for Meryl!”

Wait, sun! Wait, dawn! Victory for Meryl!

An ogre blocked us. Eliza and Gavin rushed at him.

Eliza fell. Gavin shrieked.

Meryl and I ran around tree trunks, boulders, rocks. Rhys killed another gryphon.

We ran. I saw the waterfall, still a quarter mile off.

A shadow fell over us. I smelled metal and heard bells.

Vollys.

She landed before us, blocking our way.

She surveyed the fighting. “I prepared this welcome for you, little princess.” The grass between her belly and front leg was staining red. She still bled from the wound I’d given her.

Meryl murmured, “A dragon! It’s beautiful.”

“Ah. This is the sister. Brave as my Willard. So sad that the sun will rise in seven minutes.” Her tail whipped around and snatched up Meryl and me. “Home we go.” She spread her wings. “Little one, as we fly, tell your sister farewell. I—”

Rhys soared by, pointing his baton. Her head became wrapped in cloud.

The cloud turned orange as she flamed.

An ogre threw a boulder at us and hit her tail.

It lifted. My head snapped back. The tail felled the ogre. My head snapped forward. The tail slammed us into the ground. Pain shot up my legs. But the tail loosened its grip.

Meryl and I wriggled free. The scales scraped—little knives.

“Run, Meryl!”

I saw Vollys’s claw, curled, underside up. I raised my sword, but Meryl stabbed first.

Vollys yelped.

I started toward Meryl.

Rhys sent more cloud.

Vollys flamed at him, trumpeting, “All die before me!”

Rhys stabbed her in the eye. She flamed again. His cloak caught! He fell from the sky!

I swerved, shouting to Meryl, “To the falls!” Meryl ran.

Vollys reared up, her eye streaming. I saw a black nostril. A fiery mouth opened.

“Run, Meryl!” I hurled my sword with all my strength—more than all my strength. Hurled my sword—into Vollys’s throat.

She choked. No flame. She swayed. She was bleeding, bleeding.

Meryl raced toward the waterfall.
Sun, don’t rise!

Vollys toppled.

Her neck landed on my arm. I was trapped, staring into her huge face.

She gasped, “Mourn for me, little princess.”

I struggled to free my arm.

“I would have mourned for you.”

I puffed, “Move your neck and I will mourn.”

A small bell. “Ah, little princess, you amuse me still.” She tried. A vein stood out in her neck. She shifted, a little. Enough.

Meryl! I saw a sword on the grass. Rhys’s sword. I took it.

Vollys wheezed, “Mourn for . . .”

I heard her death rattle.
Sun, don’t rise!
I ran around her corpse.

There was Meryl, trying to run while stabbing a gryphon. I sprinted toward her and saw the gryphon fall away. Its wing beat the ground once and was still. Meryl ran.

I ran too, fighting for breath. The falls roared in my ears. Meryl had only a few more yards to go.

A tree trunk sailed over her head.

Sun, don’t rise!

Huge hands circled my ribs. An ogre raised me to his chest. I heard his rock laugh. He squeezed. Pain made me scream.

Till my dying day I will wish I hadn’t screamed. Meryl heard me. She turned. She started running back for me.

“No! Go on!” I stabbed at the ogre’s arms. He grunted but still held me.

The sun rose over an eastern peak. Meryl staggered. Golden rays spread across the valley. Meryl dropped, facedown.

I stabbed upward. The ogre shrieked and released me. I threw myself down at Meryl’s side, gently rolled her over.

Her eyelids fluttered. “Addie?”

I could barely hear her.

“This was our finest day.” She sighed, and her eyes closed.

“Meryl! Don’t die!”

I stood up, wailing—

And a boulder smashed into my chest.

I collapsed.

I felt raindrops.

Then nothing.

Chapter Twenty-nine

I
SMELLED PEONIES
. Someone was singing.

Meryl. Rhys. I began to cry with my eyes squeezed shut.

“Princess Addie? Are you awake?” I didn’t recognize the man’s voice, although it sounded familiar. He continued. “Don’t cry. Laugh. Laugh!”

“You can open your eyes. There’s nothing to fear.” I knew that voice—Meryl!

I opened my eyes. There she was, smiling at me. Cured. Well again.

A huge young man stood next to her, grinning down at me. Who was he?

And where was I? I was in a bed, but not in Bamarre castle.

It didn’t matter. Meryl was well. I cried harder than before. I was happy, but I couldn’t stop crying.

“She’s still weak. Here, give her this.”

I turned my head and saw Milton. I choked out, “How did you get here?”

He passed a steaming mug to Meryl. “Your sister sent for me.”

Meryl sat next to me and put her free hand behind my shoulders to prop me up. I leaned against her and took the mug. I smelled the moily herb. Milton piled pillows behind me. I sipped the tea, still crying. That was all I could do—sip, stare at Meryl, weep.

I leaned back into the pillows so I could see her better. I saw no hint she’d ever been sick. I would have expected the Gray Death to have marked her, but it hadn’t. Her eyes were clear, and the ashy gray was gone from her face.

Something had changed, though. I thought she looked older. Then I wasn’t sure. Maybe she looked younger.

It made no difference. She was healthy. I wished I could stop crying about it.

“Drink your tea while it’s hot.”

Bella’s voice. She was here too, standing to the right of the huge stranger. Her eyes were red. She’d also been crying.

I didn’t see Rhys. I wanted to see him. More tears splashed into my tea. Meryl placed a cool hand on my forehead. The last time I’d felt that hand, it had been burning up with fever.

As soon as she touched me, I felt calmer and my tears stopped flowing.

I found my voice again. “Rhys?”

“He’s resting,” Meryl said.

“He was afire,” I said. “He—”

The stranger said, “He’ll be fine, Princess Addie.” He laughed. “He’ll be ready for more dragons soon.”

I wondered again who the man was. He looked like someone I knew, yet I’d never met him before. He was taller than the tallest of Father’s guards, and he had curly black hair and a curly black beard.

He repeated, “He’ll be fine, Princess Addie.”

That made me remember the others. “The villagers, are they fine too?”

“Gavin died,” Meryl said. “An ogre killed him. The rest are well.”

I swallowed. “The first one to help us.”

The stranger spoke again. “Because of him Surmic is no longer a place of shame.”

I supposed, but . . . “Living heroes are better,” I said.

“We have you for that,” Bella said, her voice cracking at the end.

I blushed. “And Meryl too.”

“I’m not a hero as you are.”

I thought she looked unhappy for a moment, and I wondered if she envied me for finding the cure.

She smiled and looked happy again. “I’m so proud of you, Addie.”

I blushed again and couldn’t meet her eyes. I covered my embarrassment by looking around the room.

I supposed I was in a bedchamber, since I was in a bed. But this room was built on a larger scale than any in Bamarre castle. The distant walls were white marble, hung with enormous tapestries depicting Drualt’s adventures. The floors were coral-colored marble. I couldn’t see the ceiling, which was hidden by the canopy on my four-poster bed, but the canopy itself was high enough to be an ordinary ceiling.

One thing was odd—I didn’t see a fireplace.

“It’s pretty here,” I said, and swallowed the last of my tea.

A sob broke from Bella.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

“You’re too weak for . . .” She stopped. “You’re too weak.”

She frightened me. I turned to Milton. “Am I dying, and is everyone afraid to tell me?”

“You’re not dying,” he said. “You need more rest, that’s all.”

I decided not to worry about Bella, then. I already felt better. The moily herb had worked its usual magic. I sat up and asked Meryl, “How long did it take for the waterfall to cure you?”

“It didn’t. It
was
the cure, but it didn’t cure me.”

I felt confused.

She went on. “Vollys told you the truth. Remember the prophecy?”

“The Gray Death will be cured when cowards find courage and rain falls over all Bamarre.”

“Your courage made the cure possible, and the rain was the cure itself. While they rescued you and the others, the fairies sent the same waterfall water down in a rainstorm over all Bamarre. The Gray Death is gone forever.”

I leaned forward. “Fairies rescued us? Real fairies?”

The stranger laughed. “Real fairies, Princess Addie.”

Meryl began, “They—”

“Did you meet any of them? Couldn’t you have awakened me?” I looked reproachfully from Meryl to Bella.

But the stranger answered again. “You needed to sleep. It would have been cruel to wake you.” He laughed. “But there’s a chance you might still meet a fairy or two. You might already—”

Now? It dawned on me. “Are we . . . Could this . . . Are we in their castle?”

Meryl nodded, smiling.

I wondered why she wasn’t more excited.

“You’ve changed,” I told her. “The Gray Death left its mark on you.”

“No-o-o,” Meryl said slowly. “The Gray Death didn’t change me.”

“Then what did? You’re different now. And what did you mean about the cure not curing you?” I was becoming uneasy. It wasn’t only her not being excited about fairies. There was more—calming me just by touching my forehead, and looking older and younger at the same time.

No one answered me. Meryl’s smile turned uncertain. Bella wept, and even Milton looked sad.

“When you’re better, Addie, she’ll tell you,” Bella said. “Until then—”

“I’m well enough. Tell me now. Meryl, didn’t the fairies rescue you too?”

“In a way.” She tucked my hair behind my ears, and her touch soothed me again. “The rain cured everyone who had the Gray Death—except one or two who were moments from death, as I was.” Her voice was more even than it used to be.

“What happened to them?” I was almost shouting. “What happened to you?”

Bella broke in. “She’s too weak, Meryl . . . I mean, My Lady. Wait until—”

Why did Bella call her “My Lady”? I leaned forward. “Tell me!”

“The others died, Addie.” Meryl looked utterly serene, calmer than I’d ever seen her. Calmer than she’d looked in life, when she was always striving for something.

In life!
What was I thinking? She was alive now, talking to me.

I didn’t want to ask the next question, but I did. “How were you cured if none of the others were?”

“I’m hungry,” the stranger said, “and I’ll warrant that a feast awaits us.” He smiled down at me. “You’re a rare brave maid.” He patted my foot through the covers, and his touch soothed just as Meryl’s had. Then he left the room, stepping gracefully for such a giant.

Milton straightened my bedclothes and then followed the stranger out.

Bella stood over me. “Addie . . .” She shook her head, and a tear landed on my hand. She turned to Meryl. “Remember—she’s not as strong as you were.” She left.

“You are strong,” Meryl said after Bella had closed the door behind her. “You’re stronger than I was, stronger than I had any idea of.”

“I had no idea either. You could have started your adventures years ago and taken me along.” Now that she was ready to answer my questions, I was reluctant to hear. “I’ll come in the future, though.” I would, too. I had made a promise in Vollys’s cave, and I would keep it. I would help Meryl save Bamarre. Rhys would help too.

She shook her head.

“Yes, I will,” I said. “I want to be near you from today on.”

“I will always be nearby.”

“Good. That’s settled. However, I’m tired again. I think I’ll go back to sleep.” I wriggled down into the bed and closed my eyes.

“Addie?” Her tone changed. “Listen. . . . Please open your eyes.”

Now she sounded exactly like her old self.

“Meryl?”

She looked just as she used to when she was planning something forbidden—excited and happy and bursting with energy. She picked up my left hand and ran her fingers lightly across my knuckles. “Suppose I had a chance at adventures that were greater even than fighting monsters, greater than anything Bamarre can offer. Suppose I couldn’t be slain or even hurt in these adventures. I might not win—I might even lose—”

“It would be an odd adventure if you couldn’t get hurt.” I thought about it. “Nice, but it wouldn’t be a real adventure.”

She frowned in mock annoyance. “You’re not letting me finish. Suppose the adventures
are
real. Suppose the stakes are enormously high, even if I’m in no danger. Suppose I want to go on these adventures more than I ever wanted to do anything. Suppose I’m
abjectly
grateful at the chance to go on these adventures. But suppose you couldn’t come with me, suppose I couldn’t even tell you much about them. Would you—”

“But I have to come. I told you, I want you nearby.” I laughed, holding her hand tightly. “I’d especially want to go if we couldn’t get hurt.” I added impulsively, “Oh, it’s so wonderful to have you back, your old self back.” I squeezed her hand.

“I’m doing this all wrong.” Meryl’s voice had changed again, to something between my familiar Meryl and the new calm Meryl. “I’m not my old self anymore. That is, part of me is, but most of me isn’t. The fairies couldn’t cure me, Addie. I was too near death. So they offered me a way to live, a different way. It was a great honor.

“They offered to transform me into a fairy, and I said yes.”