Then, there was Grif, the thief. Grif was a young man, of slight build, reflecting perhaps that the real life persona might well be of a similar build and age to Allun. However, Tamsyn always got on with Grif, enjoying trivial and light-hearted banter. Being a thief, he was always looking for the chance to profit by others’ losses. He was also very good for advice as to how to acquire the occasional item. Tamsyn used to lightly flirt with Grif, and it seemed to work, for she could often persuade him to part with little treasures that otherwise he’d never give to anyone else.
The torque was a relatively recent acquisition, which she managed attain in exchange from Bertram for some gemstones she’d picked up in a dragon’s lair.
She posed the question, “I need to identify the power of the torque, where should I go to find this out?”
There were several humorous replies, including Walmart, Seven-eleven and Sears. However, the Mage simply replied, “To seek what you want, you must return to where it was forged.”
“Where was it forged?”
“It is written in the runes.”
Why hadn't she thought of that?
She immediately logged out, probably to the annoyance of the gamers, but she stated she had a private quest to fulfil before partaking of any group activity. This was common, as there were always times when real life interfered with the games. As she did so, she had a moment’s panic as she realised that should an investigation take place, the mobile phone might be traced.
Then she relaxed. She’d forgotten momentarily that it was a pay as you go phone so wasn’t registered to anyone. As Allun, she hadn’t wanted any trace made back to him. Even so, she decided to ditch it as soon as she could, as it was on a US tariff, which would be too expensive to use in the UK.
The laptop was another problem. She thought about it, and once again relaxed. Allun had rebuilt it out of several he’d acquired from people who were upgrading to more up-to-date models. Although in an elderly Toshiba Satellite case, it was actually far more powerful and complex than its case would suggest. She took some time to completely remove all reference to the games and recent activity. All important personal data she removed onto the external hard drive, which she was going to retain.
As for the laptop, it was now ‘clean’ as far as any suggestion to Tamsyn or the quest were concerned. Although Miriam would probably not be able to identify the computer, she didn't want to be labelled a thief. She vowed to return it as soon as she could.
Once that was completed, her mind returned to the torque and the writings thereon. She swore, having to take off the torque to look at it.
As before, Allun returned. However, the change took a longer time. Before, it had been instantaneous, this time it took around fifteen seconds. As the familiar, obese form reassembled around him, Allun felt disgusted and like an interloper in his own form. No, it was no longer his form. He couldn’t identify with the quivering mass of excess fat, bones and organs, which used to be him. It was something alien, something revolting and something he couldn’t wait to be rid of forever!
As quickly as he could, Allun copied all the inscriptions onto a piece of paper, from both sides of the strange artefact. Then, eager to rid himself of the despised maleness, he replaced the torque as quickly as he could.
This change back to Tamsyn was instantaneous, and Tamsyn felt so much better in this form. She looked at the markings. They were not any language she could immediately identify or understand. Some of the letters were in the Celtic style, but others seemed even more ancient, perhaps of druidic origin. She knew Cornish and some other Celtic tongues. How, she had no idea, but her experience in the clothes' boutique convinced her of the ability. Deep within the torque’s subconscious were skills and secrets, the depths of which Tamsyn could only just guess.
The writing on the torque was older and more mysterious. She could almost read a couple of characters, while others were familiar yet slightly altered from what she recognised.
It was late and she was tired, feeling somewhat bemused at the speed at which events had transpired. Deciding to research the writing in the morning, she slipped into her new nightdress and snuggled into her bed. She lay awake for a while, allowing the deep-seated character of the ancient Tamsyn rise to the surface of her personality.
Strange memories flooded her mind; many were pleasant, yet many weren’t. Faces came and went, but they meant nothing to her. Some, however, caused her to wince, as if they were too close for comfort. The old Tamsyn had lived through hard and violent times; the girl tried to make some sense from the mental images, but she was unable to do so. They were without real timescale or form, so she pushed them to the back of her consciousness for the time being.
She suddenly thought of Allun. It was so weird, as it was almost as if he’d never been real. His whole life had been pathetic effort in human existence. His relationships had failed, so his life had centred round the imagination. Now, the imagination was real, the man was relegated to being yet another faint pathetic figment of her imagination.
Tamsyn vowed to never let Allun return. It was with no hesitation or guilt that she released him to become an unpleasant memory. Tamsyn was here to stay, so she smiled and was asleep in seconds.
Mary woke up as Dan left the bed. Like fishermen everywhere, he’d always been an early riser. Although no longer spending time on the large trawlers, Dan still made a living with his boat. He had many lobster pots dotted about the coastline, so it was a daily task to check them and bring the creatures back to sell to the tourists. Lobster was still a luxury commodity for which the larger hotels and restaurants paid handsomely. They rarely dished up lobster in the guesthouse, as the clientele, nice as they were, seldom had tastes that extended to such a dish.
It promised to be a glorious day, as the morning sun was already shining through the gap in the curtains. Mary stretched, enjoying the warmth of the bed, stretching out the moments before she too rose and started another day.
When, in her dressing gown and slippers, she finally reached the kitchen, Mary was surprised to find Tamsyn already up and dressed and looking as fresh as a daisy. The girl handed her a mug of tea with a warm smile. Mary glanced at the clock. It was a little after seven.
“Morning. It’s a lovely day, again,” the girl said.
“It certainly is. Did you sleep well?”
“Wonderfully, thanks. I was thinking about the American. Do you think he’s really killed himself or done a bunk?”
Mary frowned, as she’d forgotten all about him and his dreadful wife. She took a sip of her tea.
“I really don’t know. I wouldn’t blame him, either way. It would be hard to do a bunk leaving behind all your credit cards and passport, wouldn’t it?”
The girl caught the two pieces of toast as they popped up from the toaster; she put them on a plate and offered them to Mary.
“No thanks, love, I’ll have something later. I just wanted to start the breakfasts.”
“I’ll do that. I already cooked Dan some scrambled eggs and bacon before he left, in any case.”
Mary’s expression registered her surprise.
“How long have you been up?”
“About an hour, as I’m not a great one for lying in bed in the mornings.”
“Obviously. You shouldn’t feed Dan, though, as he’ll get used to it and expect it every morning.”
“You mean like next door’s cat?” the girl asked.
“Exactly, men are rather like that.”
The girl laughed… a sound that Mary found quite delightful. In fact, everything about the girl was delightful. Mary frowned, as in her experience teenagers were notoriously scheming and crafty. She watched Tamsyn as the girl spread butter and marmalade on her toast, and then sat eating it across the large kitchen table. She was dressed in a pretty cheesecloth top with Celtic writing and a navy denim skirt. Mary was quite surprised as the girl wore very little makeup, flying in the face of most girls of her age. Just a little mascara to emphasise her wonderful eyes.