Rachel Andric and Final Death

Chapter 2: Lancelot and Gawain

Rachel Andric lay on the bed, her eyes squeezed shut. She hadn't left her assigned room since undergoing Final Death one week before. There was just something so overwhelming about having died and being with other people she knew had died as well. She had run away from Alan-a-Dale after a few moments, in spite of her desire to get out as soon as possible. It was too much for her.

She got out of bed, smoothing her red cloak that she'd slept in. Going to the mirror in the room, she looked at herself. She still looked like the same old Rachel Andric—curly blonde hair, clear-blue eyes, and short. But she wasn't; she'd written herself out of The Story and undergone Final Death to save her brother, fiancé, and friends. That meant she was dead, at least according to everything she'd been taught as a Guardian of The Story.

Except she wasn't. She could still feel pain—she'd accidentally stubbed her toe on the foot of her bed her first night there—she still got hungry, and she was still just a normal person. Final Death wasn't so final after all, apparently.

Feeling steadier than she had all week, Rachel left her room. From what she knew of the world of Final Death, it was a massive hotel with the names of the occupants of the rooms on the doors. She fingered the brass plaque on the door to her room. Morpheus. Written into The Story by Will Scarlet, she had taken her brother's place as the Greek god of sleep. She wondered where he was. Had he been written back into The Story by the Editor, or was he in Final Death with her?

"Feeling better?" Rachel jumped and turned around.

Alan-a-Dale, the self-proclaimed bard of Sherwood, stood behind her, holding his lute. He ran a hand through his bright red hair, his dark brown eyes concerned. He moved and spoke very quickly, and he usually had a lot of nonsense to say.

Still, she was incredibly happy to see him. He'd undergone Final Death in Cinderella's Story, and she'd thought she would never see him again. "Alan! Yes. I'm doing better. Sorry to have worried you."

"Good!" Alan said, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. "Shall we get started on trying to escape Final Death?"

"I'd love to," Rachel said, "but I don't have any idea where to start."

"First of all, there's two people I'd like you to meet," Alan answered. He took her hand and led her to the massive stairs. They both took a moment to look down at least forty flights and up about the same.

"This place is huge," Rachel said timidly. "How do you keep your bearings?"

"I don't stray far from my room," he admitted. "I'm afraid I'd never find it again! Come on, I think it's right around this corner."

"You think?" Rachel said doubtfully, but he turned out to be right. They stopped outside of a door, Alan blocking the plaque from her sight. She rolled her eyes. "Alan, I do want to escape Final Death before I'm old and grey."

He grinned and knocked on the door. "Come on in. Door's always open. Has to be," someone said in an extremely quick voice—he might have spoken faster than Alan.

"Alright," Alan said, and opening the door he motioned Rachel through.

There were two young men sitting inside, probably a little younger than Alan. One had dusty blond hair and dark blue eyes, while the other had ginger hair and big brown eyes. The one with the brown eyes looked familiar, she thought with a frown. But she disregarded the thought after a moment.

The one with the blue eyes rolled some dice on the floor, looking up at Alan. "Ho, Lance! The bard of Sherwood has arrived, this time escorting a fair maiden! Is his past wife so easily forgotten?" His words confirmed Rachel's suspicions that he was the speedy-talker that had answered Alan.

"Oh, put a cork in it," Alan said. "She's Lady Andric."

That stopped the young man. His blue eyes widened, and the other young man recovered faster. Lance, he'd been called, went up to Rachel and took her hand. Very gallantly, he kissed her knuckle. "M'lady," he said, "it is a great honor to meet the final Guardian. My name is Lancelot—Lancelot Du Lac. This—this colorful character is Sir Gawain."

"Hi," Rachel said awkwardly. She didn't like being treated like such a lady. Only Guy had ever been so gallant to her before.

Thankfully, Gawain was not as polite as Lancelot. He whacked Lancelot's hand with the flat of his blade, drawn from its sheath in a matter of seconds. "Look at her left hand, dolt!" he said. "She's engaged! Not that that's ever stopped you before," he added reproachfully.

Lancelot dropped Rachel's hand, blushing. "Gawain!" he exclaimed, clouting him on the side of the head. "You know I feel guilty about that."

"And I know it's about the only thing I can hold over your head," Gawain answered with a beatific smile.

Alan interrupted. "Are you gambling?" he asked, his face lighting up.

"We would be, if we had anything to gamble," Gawain said with a sigh. "We spent all of that a few months ago. Now Lancelot's hoarding it and won't bet with me. So we roll the dice for nothing. It's really quite boring. You'd think Lance would be a gentleman and lend me some of the money so we can keep things interesting, but nooo, he hoards it! Like he even has anything to spend it on here!"

Rachel rubbed her forehead. "I have more important things to think about than gambling," she said tiredly. "I want to get out of here."

"Get out of Final Death?" Gawain exclaimed.

"Is that even possible?" Lancelot asked. A spark of hope lit up his brown eyes.

"If it is, she'll find out how to do it!" Alan said enthusiastically. "Won't you, Rachel?"

"The Editor's done who-knows-what to The Story," Rachel said. "I'm going to stop her if I have to crawl out of here or it takes me centuries. She won't get away with this."

"I agree," Lancelot said quietly. "I will help you."

Gawain tossed the dice. "Why not?" he said with a shrug. "We haven't had anything else to do around here, other than organizing something to give people to do."

"What?" Rachel said with a frown.

"Explain that later," Lancelot told Gawain with a frown, and the other former knight conceded with a shrug.

"You already know I'm completely on your side!" Alan added. "When do we start?"