The Two Princesses of Bamarre by Gail Carson Levine Read Free Book Online Page B

shook her head emphatically.
    She still has some energy, I thought desperately.
    “I only hope you aren’t sorry.” Bella reached for the library’s copy of Drualt . “You remember that Drualt is only nineteen when his story ends?”
    Meryl and I nodded.
    At this point in the epic, Drualt and his sweetheart, Freya, were battling the monsters alone. Earlier King Bruce’s army and even ordinary Bamarrians had fought alongside them. Together they had beaten the monsters back to the mountains, the desert, and the forest. But as time passed, people became less willing to risk their lives against monsters that rarely troubled them.
    Bella said, “The final episode begins when Drualt and his sweetheart pitch camp outside the walled village of Surmic, in the Eskern Mountains. Drualt goes hunting, and Freya sets off to fish in the Surmic River.”
    Meryl’s eyes were closed, but she nodded as Bella spoke. Milton set down his knitting and listened.
    Bella continued. “When the hero returns, he hears Freya crying for help. He gallops to the river, where he finds her harried by a dozen gryphons—and not a single villager has come to her defense.
    “I will begin to read now.
     
    “Two gryphons lay dead,
    Entrails spilling
    On the riverbank.
    Two gryphons staggered
    And reeled, wings savaged.
    Drualt laughed. His sweetheart
    Was a doughty warrior.”
     
    Meryl opened her eyes and pushed herself higher in bed.
     
    “Eight gryphons still
    Set upon Freya, feasting
    On her living flesh.
    Freya, down upon
    Her dimpled knees,
    Fought on, but
    Her life’s blood poured
    Into the roiling river.
    Drualt’s laughter died, and
    Nevermore did Drualt laugh
    Or smile in Bamarre.”
     
    Bella’s voice cracked, and she blew her nose into her handkerchief.
    Meryl recited softly. But although her voice was weak, her delivery had as much feeling as ever.
     
    “Though gryphons bit and clawed
    And set upon him, too,
    Drualt reached his sweetheart
    And knelt and tried
    To stanch the rush
    Of her heart’s red blood.”
     
    I began to cry. Today the loss of Freya was unbearable.
    Bella took up the tale again. Drualt cradled Freya in his arms. He declared his love, and she spoke for the last time, saying she’d known he wouldn’t desert her. Then she died.
    Tears streamed down my face. Meryl was crying too. I ran to her and hugged her.
    “I don’t want to die,” Meryl sobbed. “I don’t want to die.”
    Bella flew to Meryl’s other side. “Don’t cry, sweet.”
    “Go on, Bella,” Meryl gasped between sobs. “I want to hear it. . . . Just wait . . . a minute . . . It’s doing . . . it will do me good.”
    We waited. I forgot my own tears as we all watched Meryl cry into my shoulder.
    After a few minutes she pushed away from me. “I’m all right now. Crying is part of the adventure. Go on, Bella.”
    Bella took a moment to find her place. Then she began again.
     
    “A monster pecked
    At Freya’s dead lips.
    Drualt arose in fury and
    Slew it with one sweep
    Of his angry sword.”
     
    Drualt killed the remaining gryphons quickly. When they lay dead, the gates of Surmic village opened, and the villagers stepped out timidly. Drualt shook his fist at them.
    Bella recited, deepening her voice:
     
    “‘Come you now?’ roared the hero.
    ‘Come you now, when all need
    Is past? Come you now,
    When my love is dead?’
    Frightened, the villagers
    Drew back and whispered
    Among themselves, their voices
    Dry as salt.”
     
    Drualt lifted Freya and turned from the villagers. He began to walk away, bleeding from his many wounds. An old woman hurried and caught up to him. She asked if he would return to their aid in times of need.
     
    “Drualt told the crone,
    ‘Bamarre will see no more of me
    Until the timid
    Go forth with the strong.
    But while her heroes
    Still fight alone,
    Bamarre will see no more of me.’”
     
    Meryl took my hands in hers, and I stroked her wrist with my thumb.
    It was odd—I’d never before noticed the