Rachel Andric and The Editor

Chapter 2: Return to Camelot

"He went missing, and nobody thought to tell me?" Rachel demanded, her head whirling. So much for being deathly calm, she thought wryly.

"Well, right after we found out he was missing, Will fell ill," Robin explained, his face red at Rachel's scolding.

Rachel took several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. My perfect wedding day is officially ruined. What am I going to do? She had a fair idea that whatever had happened to Guy wouldn't be solved quickly. She put her hand to her forehead, trying to soothe the sudden panic inside. "Alright...look." Then Robin's words hit home. "You mean right after Guy disappeared, Will's injury returned?"

"Yes," Alan answered. "I remember Marian coming and telling us Gisborne was gone, then Will stood up and collapsed. It was all very disturbing."

Rachel pursed her lips, putting her fists on her hips as she thought. All in one night, Will's old injury that had almost meant Final Death for him had returned, Morpheus, the god of dreams, who couldn't dream, had a nightmare, and Guy of Gisborne had disappeared into thin air. It was too convenient, and Rachel had the terrible feeling she knew exactly who had done all those things. There was only one person she could turn to.

Rachel started walking away from Robin and Alan, leaving Robin confused. Alan was not one to be deterred and scampered after her. "Wait! Where are you going?" he asked.

"Camelot," Rachel replied. "Merlin's bound to know what's going on. And if he doesn't, he'll help me find out."

"I'm coming with you," Alan said. "They tried to hurt Will; I'm not going to let them finish the job."

Rachel eyed him. He and Merlin had a history of arguing over what was good music and what wasn't. Basically, anything Alan tried to sing, Merlin qualified as "not good". She didn't have time for their endless arguing, but she also didn't want to hurt the bard's feelings. He'd probably go in a corner and sing sad ballads for hours. Alan seemed to sense her indecision and hastily added, "Look, I'll behave! No singing. See? I'll even leave my lute here." So saying, Alan placed the lute on the wall and spread his hands. "You can even gag me if you'd like."

"Only if it comes to that," Rachel said, sighing. "Fine. You can come. But if either you or Merlin mentions music, I'm putting you to sleep. Fair?"

"I can't control what Merlin says," Alan complained.

Rachel glared at him.

"Fine!" Alan said, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Not a word. When do we go?"

A Story door opened behind Alan. Rachel pointed to it. "Now," she answered.

. . . . . . . .

Merlin, lounging on his bed reading a book, was startled by the sudden knocking on his door. He ran a hand through his neat black hair, frustrated. Nobody ever came so early. He really didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment. Merlin did not consider himself to be a "morning person".

Tossing his book onto the pillow, Merlin went and opened the door a crack. "This had better be good," he muttered, then stopped short. "Rachel?"

The Guardian, probably the only person in the whole Story who was shorter than Merlin, nodded. "Hello, Merlin," Rachel said. Her clear blue eyes stared at him. He spotted the lines of worry on her face, and frowned. Something was wrong. Wonderful.