Lara Croft and the Torc of the Dagda

Fiction by Melanie Pitt

Disclaimer-type-things: Lara Croft and Tomb Raider and such are all copyrighted.  
Michael (the character, not Sarah's boyfriend.) is Sarah's copyrighted character.  
Yes, I did have her permission to use him and other bits from her stories.  The other 
characters that I created, such as Byrna MacDougal and Christopher Browning, are 
my characters.  You can use them if you want, but I'd appreciate it if you would ask 
me first.  The Morrigan and her four underlings are characters of Old Celtic 
mythology, so I can't really claim them.  So enjoy this latest bit of Lara fiction.  I 
apologize for the extensive length, but I write long stories. J

Patrick O'Malley wiped the sweat from his face with a large handkerchief.  It really 
wasn't supposed to get this hot in Ireland, especially not with the cloud cover that 
day.  But the humidity was soaring and it was about to rain, so it seemed, and he 
was working about as hard as he had ever worked in his life.
He sighed and looked at his watch.another hour and a half until his lunch break.this 
was going to be one of the longest days of his life, and he knew he was going to be 
working overtime.  He hated construction work, but he was good at it and it paid well.  
He had a wife and five children to support, so he really did need the extra money 
that the long hours would provide.  He wasn't a large man, but a lifetime of hard 
labor had built for him a massive set of shoulders, along with biceps that had won 
arm wrestling competitions for years.  His black hair was plastered to his head by 
sweat, curling out from behind his ears and hanging in ringlets from the back of his 
neck.  He had piercing eyes, the color of hard gray agates, but they were often 
laughing which softened them to a more pearl-like shade.  He was tanned nearly 
brown by the constant exposure to the elements.
 He sighed again and shifted his bulldozer back into gear.  There really was no good 
reason to be clear cutting this gorgeous piece of land.some rich woman wanted to 
build herself a huge house on it, and she didn't seem to find the low hills and hollows 
quite as charming as everyone else did.  So Patrick was enlisted by his boss to go 
out and make the land flat, which was no small task.  
As he headed for the next small hump in the ground, he wondered what kind of 
person would want to destroy this kind of land.  This was the type of place that had 
earned the name of "Emerald Isle" for his country, and he did truly resent what he 
considered the rape of the land, especially because he was the one to be doing it.  
His idle thought shifted to the rolling earth in front of him.  The low blade of the 
bulldozer slid beneath the mound of earth, neatly shearing away the land before it.  
The rich, black soil mixed with the bright green grass that had covered it, then spilled 
over the sides of the blade in a rather undignified heap.  About halfway through the 
mound, a loud crash reverberated through the air, and the machine as well.  Patrick 
quickly cut the engines into reverse, then shut down once he was clear of the pile.
He scrambled from the seat, nearly tripping on his way down.  For all his strength, he 
had the coordination of a camel when it came to climbing around on things.  He 
dashed over to the point in the hill where he had hit whatever it was, and fell to his 
knees.  The ground was soggy, soaking through his trousers, but there was 
something down there that he had to find.  He started digging down with his hands, 
heaving huge handfuls of the black soil to one side.  Gradually he managed to dig 
out a small hole, into which bits of earth continually fell back into.  At the bottom 
there was a layer of small stones, perhaps the size of cobblestones.  They were 
arranged in neat rows, at least where the bulldozer hadn't disturbed them.  Seeing 
those stones there gave him a peculiar feeling, as though he shouldn't be there.he 
didn't like it, but he was a man who always finished something he started.  Moving 
away more of the dirt, he slowly came to the realization that he had been trying to 
bulldoze a burial mound.  The stone cairn had been carefully laid out countless 
years ago, with larger stones beneath the first layer.  
As much as he hated to disturb the dead, Patrick O'Malley was also a curious man.
So he moved aside as many of the stones as he could, then dug away more dirt, 
then more stones.  Gradually he uncovered a tattered burial shroud, half rotted with 
age and the constant dampness of the soil.  He could tell that it was linen, stained to 
a light brown with the constant contact with the soil.  There was a lot of it there, as 
well.  There was only a small amount left that he hadn't uncovered..it seemed to him 
like a mummy..a cocoon just waiting for something to emerge after an interminable 
wait..with dread in his heart, he knew that he had to open the shroud.  He had no 
choice in the matter, almost as though something had taken control of his will.  He 
gently lifted the shrouded remains from the grave and laid them down on the grass 
beside him.  Crossing himself fearfully, he lifted the edge of the linen.  The bindings 
had long since rotted away, leaving tattered edges free to unravel.  
As he tugged on the cloth, it almost seemed to disintegrate.  It tore so easily, as 
though it no longer wished to protect the current resident.  The wrappings fell away, 
and Patrick recoiled from the sight of what lay inside.  
It was a full human skeleton, wearing rags which must have once been the splendid 
dress of a noblewoman.  He assumed the remains were female, judging from the 
jewelry it wore and the clothing.  There was a thin, tarnished circlet about her 
forehead, tarnished cuffs about the skeletal wrists, and an absolutely beautiful torc 
about its neck.  Oddly, it had not tarnished over the years as the rest of the jewelry 
had.  Patrick reverently lifted it from the body, admiring its weight.  He judged it to be 
solid silver, the most he had ever seen outside of a museum.  In fact, he had never 
seen anything so beautiful even in a museum.  It was a collar, molded from a single 
band of silver, worked in ancient designs and patterns that no one had likely even 
seen in centuries.  It dipped slightly in the center, and had a medium sized 
moonstone set into the front, such that the stone would sit just above the small 
hollow in the neck of the wearer.
He had no idea of how long he knelt there in the soft earth, holding the torc and 
wondering.  All true thought had left his mind.there was only wonder, wonder at who 
could have created this beautiful object, who could have let it lie under the earth for 
uncounted years, who had been fortunate enough to have worn it in life.  He knew in 
the deepest parts of his mind that he was not worthy to wear such a piece, nor to 
possess it.  He had to find someone who could take it from him, someone who could 
protect it, someone who could get it to its true owner.
None of those thoughts were truly his own, but he really had no idea where they 
came from.  A piece of jewelry?  Bah, impossible.
He staggered to his feet, still holding the torc.  He walked back to the 'dozer in a 
daze, reaching for his radio.  He pressed the talk button, the static crackling 
unnaturally loudly.  "Aye, O'Malley here.I'm comin' back now."
"Everything all right out there?", the boss called back, his voice faint.
The crackling grew louder.  "Yes, I just found something, that's all.one of the mounds 
I'd say.some nice bits of silver and such."
"Come on back then.you deserve..."  The radio completely cut out then, going dead 
in Patrick's hand.  The batteries must have gone dead.  He climbed into the driver's 
seat, and headed back to their base, just off the main road.  The torc lay in the seat 
beside him, the rest of the find forgotten though it was priceless in and of itself.  
				***
Lara Croft sighed and let herself sink back into the huge fluffy pillow on her bed.  It 
was so wonderful to be able to just kick back for a while and not have to run around 
saving the world every five minutes.even though it was a pleasurable pastime on 
occasion.  She smiled, looking out the window of her hotel room.  The view really 
was spectacular, for a room in the middle of Los Angeles.  She had managed to get 
the presidential suite of the not so prestigious Ramada Inn, but hey, who likes to 
ALWAYS travel on the upper crust?  It was high enough above the city streets that 
she could see all the way to the ocean, and she was planning on heading out there 
just as soon as.
The door to the bedroom opened quietly, and a tall young man walked in.  Since she 
could see his vague image as a reflection in the window, she didn't turn.  "Hello 
there, Michael dear.  Did you manage to find that bellhop?"
"Umm.are you talking to me, Lara?"
Lara rolled her eyes.  "Of course I am.  What other Michael have I asked to do 
anything for me today?"
"Not me, Lara.  I'm not this Michael person you're talking to."
Lara bolted upright and spun around, coming face to face with one person she'd 
hoped she'd never run into again.  The tall, stocky frame was the same as Michael's, 
as was the dark, short cropped hair.  He also wore glasses which had helped to aid 
in her error, but the resemblance ended there.  The boy's eyes were a piercing bright 
blue, and his face was quite tanned.  "Oh, no.not you again."  It was her cousin, 
Jonathan Marlow, the one who'd made her life miserable all through her childhood, 
tagging along and making himself a general nuisance.  He'd gotten himself expelled 
from several of Britain's most prestigious prep schools, and had barely been 
accepted to Oxford as a legacy.  (Of course the rather large donations that his father 
made to his alma mater on a regular basis did nothing to harm his admissions 
considerations.)
"I've been trying to find you for weeks, Lara.  What are you doing all the way out 
here?  Father wants you to come home for a family reunion at our estate."  He 
sniffed haughtily.  "And in a Ramada Inn?  Surely the Lara I know wouldn't stay 
somewhere so far beneath her status..Imagine, one of Britain's finest, in a sleazy 
American hotel.personally, I could hardly bring myself to ask for your room number.  
Can you believe that that woman is wearing black?  It's the middle of June, you 
know."
"Jonathan, go away.  I'm on vacation, and that means a short period of time free 
from annoyances, distraction, and unwelcome visitors, at least the last time I 
checked.  So would you please remove yourself from my presence and hop on the 
next plane back to London?"
"No, Lara.  I was sent with specific instructions from my father to bring you home, 
and not to return without you and."  He fumbled in his pocket for something, then 
pulled out a crumpled slip of paper.  ".Michael.is he your newest associate or 
something?"
Lara glared at her cousin.  "Yes, as a matter of fact, he is.  He's been of great help to 
me, which is more than I can say for some people.  You're going to have to go back 
home alone, Jonathan.  I'm on my vacation right now, and I think I've earned it this 
time, so just get out of my room before I call the front desk and have you forcibly 
removed and sent back to London via air mail."
Jonathan made a tsking sound.  "Lara, I just can't leave without you.  I know you 
think you're some sort of heroine and all, but that simply doesn't exempt you from the 
occasional family celebration.  We would be ever so disappointed if the family 
tomboy were absent."
Lara seethed inside.  He had no business talking to her this way.no business at all, 
and it was starting to get on her nerves.  She had been patient, tried being nice, 
even being not so nice, and now things were looking desperate.  It was at that point 
when she saw someone coming into the sitting room behind Jonathan.  She smiled 
to herself.  
"Oh Michael," she called out as sweetly as she could.   "Could you come here for a 
minute?  We've got company."
Lara's partner, Michael Crisman, walked into the room.  He was carrying a rather 
large package, along with a bag of Chinese take out.  Lara had just been dying for 
some cheap MSG intake, after all.  For a moment, he looked puzzled, then caught 
the not so subtle conspiratorial look on her face.
"Oh, who's this?  Is this another boyfriend, Lara?"  Michael winked at her and 
grinned.  
"No, Michael dear.  This is my cousin Jonathan, who says that we're supposed to be 
going back to England with him for a family celebration."
"Oh, and I thought we were just going to the beach this afternoon."  His grin 
broadened.  It was hard not to smile when he was around Lara, especially since they 
weren't doing their absolute best to get themselves killed or at least brutally maimed 
and disfigured.  He could tell, though, that Jonathan was most unwelcome company 
at the moment, and most likely at just about any moment as far as Lara was 
concerned.  He could see the high breeding and arrogance just dripping from her 
cousin's carefully trained smile and slightly raised chin.
"I know.I did so want to try out that new bathing suit we went shopping for 
yesterday.I know, why don't we take Jonathan with us?  I'm sure he'd love to see the 
sights of the city with us.you're in no rush, are you, cousin dear?"
Jonathan looked at her rather suspiciously.  "What are you doing, Lara?"  He looked 
thoughtful for a moment.  "I suppose we could delay our return for a few days, but I'll 
have to stay with you while you're here."
"Could I have a word with Michael in private, Jonathan?"
"I suppose I could allow that."  He turned and went out into the sitting room, closing 
the door behind him.
Lara quickly went to Michael and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.  "I 
missed you while you were out."
"I missed you, too.  What's going on?"
"You pretty much heard the gist of it.  Personally, I'm not one to ditch my vacation 
plans for some stupid reception or what have you.  I'm staying right here and I've got 
a plan forming to get rid of Jonathan while we're at it."  She grinned evilly.
"And what might that be, your deviousness?"
"Oh, you'll see.  We are going to the beach, though, so get changed.as much as I'd 
love to help, I think there are a few proprietary rules that Jonathan would love to see 
me break, so do it in the bathroom."
Michael pouted for a moment.  "Oh, all right.  Have it your way."  He stuck out his 
tongue at her, then rummaged through one of his bags for his bathing suit and a 
towel.  
"Don't forget to put on some sunscreen while you're at it."  
Michael glared at her, pulled a bottle of Coppertone SPF 45 out along with his other 
beach things, and headed for the large bathroom.  
"Jonathan, I think there's a gift shop downstairs.they stock a lot of stuff like spare 
bathing suits if you didn't bring one with you."
Her cousin peered in at her from the next room.  "It'll be beneath me, of course, but I 
suppose that I could stand to be seen once in something inferior.I'll be back, and 
don't even think about leaving without me."
The outside door to the suite slammed shut and Lara hummed something under her 
breath as she picked up the phone and dialed the gift shop.  She gave them 
Jonathan's description along with the instructions to demand ID, passports, anything 
that would cause him to delay in buying a bathing suit, but also to make it sound 
reasonable.  She also promised a hefty tip if they were successful and she was 
checked out by the time he was finished in there.  Then she called for a Hampton Inn 
across town, asked for a room as soon as possible, and also promised a rather large 
tip if they were ready when she got there.
Lara was in a considerably better mood as pulled out her newest bathing suit.  
Strictly speaking, she had gone shopping for it with Michael, but he hadn't actually 
seen her wearing it.  This one was sure to be a good surprise.  Her slight grin had 
turned into a huge smile as she admired the rather nice fit.  The store they had gone 
to had been quite gracious in allowing her to mix and match the pieces, since her top 
size didn't quite match her bottom size, not by a long shot.  In fact, it had been a long 
time since Lara had even been able to buy a one piece for just that reason.Lycra 
stretched, but not that much.  This latest suit was a little black string bikini that 
looked for all the world just like the one that had modeled on the cover of 
Cosmopolitan a few months before.pity that Cindy hadn't looked quite this good in it.  
Lara pondered for a moment what the reaction that that cover would have been if it 
had been her instead, and giggled at the thought of millions of lust driven teenage 
boys going out and buying it under some surely interesting pretense.  
Her amusing thoughts broke off as she heard Michael finishing up in the bathroom.  
She quickly pulled on a pair of running shorts and a tank top, shoved her feet into a 
pair of sneakers, and started putting on sunscreen of her own.  Then she started 
packing the rest of her things.   "Michael, I want you to hurry up in there and get 
packed when you're done.we're moving."
"What are you talking about?  We just got here two days ago and we're going to the 
beach, the last I heard."  The bathroom door opened and he walked out, looking 
rather annoyed.
"We're still going to the beach, just moving first.  I'm just throwing Jonathan off our 
trail so that I can actually enjoy this vacation."
Michael rolled his eyes as he threw his things into the two duffel bags he had 
brought with him.  "And I assume you had this all planned out before I even got back 
to the room, didn't you?"
"Actually no.the bastard surprised me.  I thought he was you because he just walked 
on in."  Lara picked up one of the containers of Chinese take out.  "Odd, I'm not 
hungry any more.  The sight of that snot nosed little prick is enough to turn one's 
stomach, I suppose."  She tossed them into the trash on their way out.
They took the back stairs down to the lobby, thus avoiding being seen through the 
glass gift shop windows.  She quickly paid for the room, left twenty dollars for the gift 
shop cashier, and dragged  Michael out the door with her.  
"I don't see any cars to swipe, do you, dear?"
He shrugged.  "Not anything good, at any rate.  Lara, you're going to get us killed 
talking like that in downtown LA, you know."  He poked her in the ribs as they walked 
down to the corner.  
"Nonsense.  No one else heard me but you, Michael."
"Suit yourself, but I'm not sticking around when a couple of gang bangers decide 
you're a threat to their ghetto cruisers."
She laughed at that and did her best to hail a taxi.  "God, it's as bad as New York."  
Finally a cab pulled over for them.  The driver looked Hispanic, with a big mustache 
and dark skin.  
"Eh, chica!   Adonde vas?"  He leered at her.  He was missing a few teeth and 
smelled like cheap cigars.
She exchanged a weary look with Michael.  
Michael looked back at her, then muttered, "I'll bet you five dollars he doesn't speak 
a word of English."
Lara looked at the driver and spoke. "  Ah, amigo!  Vamos al Hotel Hampton Norte.  
Puede llevarnos alla rapidamente, por favor?"
The driver grinned even wider.  "Hablas la lengua muy bien, senorita."  He peeled 
out, leaving streaks of rubber behind them.  
"So what's going on, Lara?"
"We're going to another hotel so that Jonathan won't know where we are.  I got the 
people in the gift shop to delay him so that we'd be able to get out without him 
seeing us, and I've got them preparing a room for us over the North Hampton."
Michael giggled.  Lara really could be evil when she tried.  He closed his eyes and 
hoped that Jonathan really wouldn't be able to track them down again, and that they 
would actually be able to have a real vacation without any interruptions.  Before 
long,  his mind drifted the exact reason that they were taking a vacation.  He and 
Lara had gotten beaten up quite badly on their last adventure together, and they 
both needed a LOT of time to rest up before something else came up.  Michael could 
still feel some of the bruises that hadn't quite healed just yet.it was amazing that 
Lara had healed so quickly.  Maybe her body had grown acclimated to constant 
punches and kicks and knew how to deal with them better.  Who could tell?
Around forty five minutes later, they arrived at the hotel, which happened to be quite 
a bit closer to the beach anyway.  The cab driver pulled up to the entrance then 
grinned at Lara.  "Ah, senorita.  El viaje cuesta." The driver mumbled on about how 
he had been blinded by Lara's beauty and had forgotten to start the trip counter.he 
was terribly sorry but he would have to give her the trip for free.
Lara threw her hands up in irritation, handed the man forty dollars, and pulled her 
bags out of the car.  Michael quickly followed, stumbling after her, giving the cab 
driver a quick glare as he left.
"What an ass." Michael looked at Lara for a moment.  She was doing her absolute 
best to keep from laughing hysterically about the whole situation.  "So what all did he 
say to you, anyway?"
"You really don't want to know, Michael.  Don't worry about it."
"Anybody else, you would have put a gun in his face and threatened to send a pack 
of rabid Chihuahuas on his ass."
"Oh, him.  It's so funny because he's Carlos Sanchez.  Pretty normal Mexican name, 
but he's my contact around LA in case something funny comes up."  She giggled a 
little bit more, then went to the front desk, leaving Michael gawking.  What was with 
this woman?  Did she know everyone in the whole world or something?
A few moments later she returned, holding a key ring and smiling.  "We got the good 
rooms again, dear.  Come on, he want to be able to hit the beach before it gets 
dark."
They went upstairs with their bags, and Lara opened the door, peering about the 
room out of habit more than out of caution.  Satisfied, she tossed her bags on the 
queen sized bed and opened the laptop briefcase.  She flipped it open and plugged 
it into a phone outlet.  
"What's up, Lara?"
"Just checking my mail."  She smiled as she managed to connect to AOL on the first 
try.
"Lara, what the hell are you doing on AOL?"
"It's part of the incognito thing I make a token attempt at.someone as smart as I'm 
reputed to be would never use a lousy service like this."  She smiled again, though 
her smile quickly evaporated as she read her messages.  She muttered a few choice 
oaths, then reread one of them.  Then she closed her eyes as though in pain, picked 
up the phone, and dialed a number.  Michael stared at her, a sinking feeling growing 
in his stomach.
"Yes, do you have flight schedules on hand?  I'd like to get on the next flight to New 
York.yes it's important."  She sighed.  "I'm on hold.it just figures, doesn't it?"
"Okay, what's going on?"
"Read the message from bmacdougal@uknet.com.  You should understand some of 
it, I suppose."
Michael sat down in front of her laptop and read the message.
Lara.we've gotten something interesting here that I think you should see.some sort 
of torc with a moonstone set into the center.there's something odd about it but I 
haven't been able to determine it on my own. If you don't mind I'd like to have you 
come out here for a few days to check things out.  The museum will pay for your 
transportation and accommodations.  I realize that you are on holiday but I think that 
this is important enough that it should be brought to your attention. -Byrna 
MacDougal

Michael looked at her a bit mournfully.  "I guess this means that the vacation is off, 
then.  Who's this Byrna person?"
"Byrna MacDougal is the curator of the Museum of Celtic History in Dublin.  She's 
gotten her hands on a lot of interesting things, and some of them have been, well, 
rather on the strange side.  Things along the lines of what I would normally chase 
down.  And when something like that turns up, she wants me to check things out."
"What's a torc, anyway?"
"It's a kind of Celtic necklace, like a collar almost.  They fit around your neck and 
sometimes over the chest when they're larger.  They're usually made out of silver, 
and they were said to be gifts from the gods to those who pleased them.  Some of 
them are incredibly powerful, according to legends."
"Powerful as in what?"  Michael was looking somewhat incredulous, and that was 
getting on Lara's nerves.
"I've never run across one of the ones with any power, but I've heard stories..it just 
depends on the individual torc.  Some can just create light, or cause shape shifting.  
There's no limit to what kind of power they can have, as far as I know."
"So let me guess.we have to get to Dublin as soon as possible, so that we can 
protect this torc that may or may not have inherent power which could quite possibly 
attract some sort of crazed lunatic bent on ruling the world, and in the process 
almost get ourselves killed again?"
Lara stared at him.  "Perceptive of you to think of such things ahead of time.  That's 
part of the reason I've been teaching you to actually shoot that pistol I loaned you.  
But I don't think that this one is going to be all that dangerous, or I would be taking 
more time to plan things out.  This should be a pretty routine identify and put under 
security mission.I really don't think it should take all that long."
"But we were going to the beach," Michael plaintively whined, only partially 
sarcastically.  He had seen the scrap of Lycra that Lara was wearing, and he wanted 
to see it on her, make no mistake about that one.
She patted his cheek playfully.  "We'll go out there, check things out, and come right 
back, and then we'll have our vacation.  But if you really want to go, you don't have 
to.I'll go alone and you can stay here and go to the beach."
Michael stood up indignantly.  "Like hell I'm staying here.I think I'd like to go to 
Ireland anyway.  It might actually be fun."  He smiled wryly.  "Something doesn't want 
me to die peacefully of old age, I suppose."
"Well, I don't want that to be the way I go either, so there."  Lara playfully stuck out 
her tongue at him. 
"Don't stick that thing out unless you're going to use it, dearie."
Lara peered at him for a moment, took his face in both hands, and kissed him full on 
the mouth, slowly running her tongue around the insides of his lips, behind his teeth 
for a moment, then just as quickly withdrew.  "Does that count?"
Michael let out his breath with a whooshing sound..  He smiled angelically.  "I think 
that should about cover it.but next time I'm not going to let you off so easily."
"And you honestly think that I would mind?"  She smiled, a vaguely promising smile 
that Michael had come to associate with, well.you know.
					***