Skull of Oghren

by Tuomas Vainio

  The cat of fire stands still on her shoulder, as Bergelmir's eyes widen in awe.

  'I have not figure out how to give it sentience... to make it follow simple instructions and tasks. Like broom to brush. But flame just burns. Enceladus and Mimas talk how lending, or giving away simple memories, fragments of a mind, could give an object sentience.' She gazes at the seemingly still head of the cat and the flames loose their focus. They fall loose and disperse.

  'Maybe leap onwards and run? Fire can leap and run, right?'

  'Maybe, but we cannot really try that in here.' She chuckles, and waves her hands at the shelves upon shelves of books.

  The two laugh, and get interrupted by Yarnsaxa who rises the stairs huffing and puffing. Her face is red. 'What is the matter?' Loge asks.

  Yarn grunts the words out in between her breaths; 'Had an idea. Could not wait.' Her face is as red as a rose.

  'Take your time.' Loge adds.

  Yarn takes a breather as Bergelmir skulks around the room, keeping his ear on what Yarnsaxa has to say. 'What if, what if instead of trying to change that finger bone, I cover it with stuff, and change the stuff around it? Had some success with pebbles earlier.'

  'Everything is worth a shot.' Loge glances to Bergelmir who neatly nods in agreement. 'Need help?'

  Loge's beaming smile takes a moment to spread to the young boy's face, and so they get to work with once Yarnsaxa gives a nod back. The two others dash back and forth bringing the Yarn the materials she has requested, while she in turn focuses on shattering one of the finger bones by first creating soft spheres of matter to wrap around the bone, before changing the sphere to something else entirely.

  Yet through attempts repeated over and over again, the rocks and metals wrapped around the piece of bone shatter and grind to dust with increased vehemence. Splinters fly. Skin is scratched, and Yarn's fingers glisten occasionally in red.

  Thus as Bergelmir and Loge watch Yarn suck her scratched thumb, the two decide to give a try based on Pandora's instructions on telekinesis, and barriers created by Mimas and Enceladus. Thus their minds wrap around respective shares of tasks. Bergelmir raises the piece of bone to float before them. Yarnsaxa follows after by bringing the a sphere of gooey red substance towards the bone, and make it swallow it whole. She nods to Loge, who primes her mind to push the air around the blob to produce a shield of air that shimmers quietly like a large bubble of soap. After some hesitation and nods shared between the three youths; Yarnsaxa's fingers finally jerk and twist. A spark glistens within her pupils. The red blob twists and jerks into small triangles of fractal nature. The edges protrude and jerk as the matter itself begins to transform into something else. The red darkens, fractures, and solidifies, until the sheer pressure causes it to shatter with a violent burst.

  Dark red fragments caught and stopped by Loge fall to the floor. Red dust floats in gentle puffs. The tooth lies on the floor inert and unharmed. The three kids blink and release a mutual sigh of relief mixed with disappointment.

  Yarnsaxa picks up the bone. 'It is a though nut to crack.'

  Bergelmir shuffles through the dark red fragments, and raise a small piece to peer through the light beaming from the nearby window. 'What are these?'

  Yarn looks at the misshapen pieces. 'Gemstones I guess... Rubies I think. At least that is what the jeweller said, and hardest things he could get his hands on.'

  Loge's mouth twirls up and down as she tries to come up with the best words to say; 'Was that ruby shell as hard as you could make it?'

  The other girl blushes. 'Maybe not. I transformed the outer surface fist, and then the inside. It might not have been as strong as it could have been.'

  The boy's eyes dart between the two. 'Maybe the twins could help with that.'

  Yarn nods while Loge hits her palm with her fist. 'Yeah.'

  Hence the group of three return most of what they took off from Yarn's shelves, and do some quick cleaning before they all head down the stairs. Loge strides while Bergelmir slouches after as the tip of the tail, and all three carry a sealed jar or two with them.

  Once back on the ground floor, it does not take long for them to grow tired of waiting. All three tap their feet against the steps by the filled glass jars. Their feet follow a simple rhythm, with occasional tink from when a foot nudges and shoves the jars slightly too hard.

  A while later and the three kids are running around the tables, leaping over chairs, and catching each other with slaps and swipes across the air. A brief touch, before dashing away in turn.

  'Tag, you're it.' A simple phrase repeated over and over again. As more of the twelve kids find their way to the House of Mystery, the game of tag grows wilder and wilder, until the kids spice things up with bit of magical flair. A bit of cheating once here and there. Atlas conjures a bit of ice to cover the floor to cause others to slip, until countered by Loge's fiery whips. Hip's fingers come with a jolts of electricity. While Pandora lifts her victims to air by pulling from their cloths. Dione's shadows aid her to stay away. Mimas and Enceladus throw little short lasting sparks of life to the chairs and pots to further the general chaos, while the oldest of the three blows harsh winds from her lungs. A game of tag that begins to be about showing off.

  Thus when the twins Hati and Narvi finally find their way in, the ground floor before them is a whole lot something different than what they last saw. Most notably how the chairs and pots seem to be fencing along with Pandora and Dione's shadows. How Bergelmir chases Hip, Atlas and Loge on top of a table. How Yarnsaxa relaxes on the steps with the three siblings, each fanning each other with a plate or bowl on their hands. Finally, the jars and utensils aggressively rattle towards each other.

  The twin's scratch each other's heads as they keep observing the madness playing out right before them. Madness that slowly begins to fade, as the animated objects burn out their spark. As Pandora finally stands triumphant over Dione having cut her shadows to shreds once the household objects yielded. And when the table finally stops its run in circles, Bergelmir decides to vanishes into thin air before Loge, Atlas or Hip can really turn around to face him in vengeance.

  But somehow for the ten other kids; it is the twins who begin to draw their attention. For they have been for the two, and so Hati and Narvi turn to look at one and other in hopes the other somehow magically knows why the others are suddenly so interested in them. They point their fingers at one and the other, trying to quickly commune and figure it out, but they are pulled in and the door closes behind.

  What is presented to the twins is a sharp red sphere. A large translucent red gemstone, with an obvious dark spot within. The two boys take their turns to gaze at it as they are told of the plan to use the ruby surrounding the bone to grind it to bone ash. Twist and turn, while the gemstone holds the bone in place. 'Squashed like a grape between two palms.' Hip tries to explain while squeezing a loose button pulled from his trouser pockets.

  A glance is shared by Hati and Narvi. The others wait for them to try their best. Those ten pairs of eyes creates pressure to succeed. The twins pass the ruby to one and the other, before Hati's fingers wrap around it.

  'Beats hammering the anvil, I guess.' Narvi nods, and with it, Hati gets to work. He closes the gemstone within his palms, and sees nothing but the stone held against his skin. Ruby screeches and moans like the piece of chalk Pandora once found and used to draw against the nearby board. The others flinch over from the sound and do their best to cover their ears.

  Yet the gemstone snaps, and a crack splits it into two uneven halves. The finger bone remains without a single scratch. A solid lump of white bone. The excitement that had built up, slowly fades away. A kick of dirt. Faces turned down. Pandora is looking towards the ceiling while scratching back of her head, ruffling her short cut.

  'Maybe we could try again?' Narvi carefully voices. 'We cannot expect to succeed on the first try, right?'

  His brother throws his arm over Narvi's shoulder, and boldly claims: 'Yeah.'

 
The others smirk and nod in silent agreement. The attempts to shatter the finger bones continue by all twelve. The fires are evoked ever brighter, hammer meets the anvil once more, and the finger bones are tested time and time again. Their determination and shared effort burns bright as they toil together.

  Chapter 10:

  The Sun is setting. The last glimpses of fading rays throws Pan's shadow across the roofs of the city. His boots trample and race along those brick roads above the city's streets. Yet something weights heavy on the boy's steps. His remaining eye is bruised and swollen with constant stinging soreness. He can barely see through the purple bruised flesh. Yet it is not the bruise alone that makes him hesitate his steps. It is the glass eye that glows with its bright green flame. The side of his field vision that he had already forgotten. It bothers how he has to keep his head slightly tilted into the wrong direction for the ideal field of vision of what lies ahead.

  His feet hit against the roof tiles. The patchwork cloak flaps from the gusts of evening wind. The howl across the streets flows by tearing and pulling the ropes. Wind chimes send forth their tingling regards. The distant seagulls remain quiet, as a storm is brewing far in the distance. A mountain of clouds rises far beyond the walls of the caldera and even further beyond the mountains of the valley.

  Autumn is drawing closer and along with it rides the storm winds and rain. Fast from the west like galloping horde of raging beasts with darkness for hair, and breaths of thunder and lightning.

  Pan makes his last leap, and lands on the corner of a roof. Ahead a final climb along the old rain pipe, before his two feet stand within his very own attic room. The boy's body moves upwards as his hands pull and his legs slide along to support his weight and to fasten his grip. Once Pan secures a hold on the edge of the roof; he lets his feet go loose of the pipe. He dangles his feet, gaining momentum, before he can flip his body onto the roof itself. A few quick steps and he stands right inside the attic room.

  The window creaks as the boy closes it. The patch-work cloak weighs on his shoulders, so he lets it fall on the floor. A stretch, a yawn, and the eye patch is moved to cover the glass eye. Pan does his his best to squint past the swollen flesh around his one real eye, but it proves to be a difficult task. So he reaches for his eye patch and moves is just a little bit aside before pulling out the metal scissors and the bag of coins that had brought him his bruise in the first place.

  The smallish bag clinks as it lands onto the shaky desk. But as for the scissors as pointy and sharp as any dagger; easy to hold, and well balanced. A weapon disguised as a mundane house tool.

  Pan touches the bruise with his fingers and flinches. He swears that it shall be the last time he ever gives any girl flowers. Even when his bruised eye could be more accurately described as a direct result of a repeated acts of sleight of hand.

  He opens the jaws of the scissors listening the how the sharp blades grind against one and the other. A pair of blades sharp and hard enough to cut anything from thickest belts and strings. Pan swallows. He was lucky to have grabbed it before the ginger haired girl had the chance snip and cut any nasty gnashes on him. The bruised eye was a small price to pay all things considered.

  Pan coughs. A bruised eye and another glowing with green flames. Pan thinks how he might just as well push the eye patch over bruised eye, but that would not stop anyone from asking questions. After some consideration he settles to letting the bruised eye remain visible. Perhaps that way the others will ask fewer questions from him. Thus the boy makes his final adjustments to his eye patch, by taking it off and poking a tiny hole in the middle of the fabric. A tiny hole to gaze through instead of just peering past the gab between his nose and the eye patch.

  Hence Pan gives a glance at the scissors, and it is his first real glance at the green carved handles of painted wood. At the blades adorned with sea and seagulls on one side, and by trees and foxes on the other. He snorts to himself in disbelief of the actual amount of detail, a snort before he gives the pair of scissors a spin around his index finger, and leaving it next to the little pouch of gold.

  All the hurry and urgency is gone from his steps as he casually strolls down the stairs, finding empty floor one after another. He thinks how it is not that late for everyone to be already gone. How at least Loge should be somewhere around the bookshelves in her usual manner.

  As Pan's climb down brings him closer to the ground floor, he begins to feel heat emanate from below and with it muffled voices that grown louder with each step taken. Loud voices, almost like arguments shouted at one and the other. Pan slows down his pace, and slowly sneaks the few remaining steps before he can listen to what it is going on at the top of the stairs.

  Of the twelve, Hip is being the loudest. He waves his hand as he tries to get his point through. 'Why waste more of our time, we cannot break those cursed bones.' He throws away the finger bone he was holding to. 'Look at us, we are kids what chance we have when those blessed by the gods themselves have failed?'

  Loge shouts back; 'We cannot just give up now.' The others do their best not to attract attention, not to pick any sides.

  'We have tried everything we can. And there is not a scratch. Not a single mark. Only failures and nothing but failures.' He points his finger to the collection of jars. 'We have emptied and refilled these jars twice over.' His shoulders slump. His gazer wanders to the red fragments of gemstones that litter the floor. The shattered pieces of metals. How the fireplace burns with its nigh undying fury. 'This is all for nothing.' Hip's voice almost breaks to a whimper, and throws his notes into the fire. The flames quickly devour the paper.

  Loge's hand hangs in the air before it simply falls down. Her words did not come out in time to stop him. 'We cannot stop trying.' She mutters to herself.

  The two turn away from each other. It is awkward and silent. Thus it does not take all that long before Pandora groans loudly. 'How about we steal that stupid skull? I mean we have to get to it to smash it, so why not take it and hide it instead?'

  Hip swallows. 'It is the Skull of Oghren, it will be found if it goes missing. It always has been.'

  Atlas decides to chime in: 'That skull is thieves bane, and the magisters will turn over every brick in the city if they have to.'

  Pandora scratches her head as momentary redness rises to her cheeks. It vanishes the moment she blurts out: 'Then lets leave a smashed skull behind. Who would know better?'

  Hip chuckles and snorts. 'Where would we even get our hands on a real were-rat skull? You think magisters will not find out if we make one up ourselves from cow and fish bone? Do were-rat skulls even look like rat skulls?'

  'Shut your mouth!'

  'Or what?'

  The others get involved before Pandora's fist start flying. They shout and scream as hair is being pulled while shouts and insults fill the air.

  The old rat chuckles by Pan's ear. 'I bet you know where to find a were-rat skull.'

  'It is going to start raining before I can even reach the docks. It will be days before the passages will be dry enough for me to climb, and it took us weeks to get back from there.'

  The rat gives a hollow laughter. 'Well, were you to crawl and climb, instead of just flying all the way down.'

  Pan's bruised eye blinks. 'Mimas...' His head turns to the old rat. 'You set her up, you made her...'

  'Shhh.' The old rat whispers against his paw raised in front of the snout of whiskers and teeth. 'It turned out all right. We got what we need to fetch us all the skulls we need. So listen to me Pan, and listen good...'

  A moment later Pan takes his haphazard steps down, and stops on the floor in front of the stairs. 'I know where to get the skull.' He shouts. The twelve others stop in their tracks. Pan scratches his head, and Pandora lets go off Hip's hair, which leads to a chain reaction of others following the suit. They cough, pat their clothes, and straighten them as needed.

  'What happened to you eye?' Pandora asks.

  Pan's shoulders slump as he utters the words;
'I gave a girl some flowers.' A mumbled phrase that causes Pandora to bursts into joyous laughter, some of the twelve join with a chuckle or two.

  Yet the laughter is cut short by Hip's questions; 'How and where?'

  Pan's eyes wander towards Mimas, before darting away. 'There is a pit in the docks. The heart of the docks where they throw those punished with the affliction. It might be a long drop down but it has a bottom with countless corpses, countless skulls for us to pick what we need.'

  The first rain drops hit the side of the building, battering the windows with slow tempo. Hip's eyes sparkle. 'A storm is coming, everyone will stay inside... No one will see you climb down on a rope… ' Hyperion stops and pauses to think. 'No... fly down and straight back up.' Hip's eyes focus on Mimas whose eyes sparkle with the first mention of flying. Her siblings throw their protests, but she remains adamantly swept by the idea.

  The oldest, Pallene, especially points out that they do not even know if Mimas' pigeon could even fly when wet, to which Hip eventually butts in. He suggests that they could test it. To see whether the pigeon could fly while soaking wet.

  Thus they all climb upstairs where there is enough space for the cloth to spread out and take the form of the bird. With a flick of Mimas' hand, the folded cloth jumps up, spins and reshapes into the form of the pigeon.

  What follows is buckets of water filled by Hip and throw by others at the bird, while the winds conjured by Pallene, continue to test the homunculus bird. Pandora even makes the twins and Dione cling on to the bird's back, while its wings continue to flap to and keep it aloft against the harsh whipping winds.

  Mimas of course laughs with utter joy as disbelief and terror slowly spread onto the faces of her siblings, the oldest Pallene, is forced to give up. The winds calm down inside the room. The other kids sigh in relief as they are no longer are pressed against the walls, or barely struggling to stay up.

  Pallene swallows, and Mimas makes the pigeon fold back, and then raise the cloth over her shoulders as a cloak. The older sister bites her lip, and tries to give her last protests; 'It still might not be able to fly.'