“The island geologist reckoned that if the volcano came to life again and erupted, the cap of ice would start melting slowly from the underside, but there would still be a plug of ice sealing the mountain and slowing down the fire. Fire needs oxygen, and none could get in through the thick layers of the tightly packed ice and water. The glacier would stop Mount Violaceous and keep Fenrir in his seat. Everyone at the meeting breathed a sigh of relief.
“They were just about to move to ‘other business,’ when little Albert MacAvinney, Lewis MacAvinney’s granddad, tentatively raised his hand. The mayor called for silence, and everyone turned and looked at the little boy sitting between his grandparents at the back of the hall. ‘Yes, little Albert MacAvinney. What is it?’
“‘The caves,’ little Albert MacAvinney said. ‘Air will get in through the caves.’
“And he was dead right. There’s a veritable labyrinth of caves in and around and under Fenrir’s Seat, with hundreds of openings all over the mountain. Some begin under the sea; some open at the top of the cliffs and work their way down. They meet and mingle out of sight, deep underground. Some lead directly to the belly of the mountain, some to dead ends, and some tunnels lead you to a maze.”
“Is that what that big cave at the Beach of Bewilderment is?” Dani said. “The one just over the sand dunes as you come from the beach toward the mountain? Is there a tunnel leading into the volcano there too?”
“Yes, Dani,” Granny said. “If you crawl right to the back, there’s a hole, a tunnel.”
“Can we go and have a look at it? Can we?”
“We’re probably not allowed to. That would be dangerous,” Ruairi said.
“Yes, indeed, Ruairi,” Granny said. “No one’s allowed to go wandering around in those tunnels. Besides, I have a feeling it’s all blocked up.”
“Oh well,” Ruairi said.
“I’m sure we can unblock it,” Dani mumbled to herself.
“Listen to Granny, Dani,” Mum said. “You must never wander around in any of these caves—either of you. It’s too dangerous. You may find yourself hopelessly lost, unable to find your way out.” Mum looked back to Granny, who continued.
“All eyes turned to little Albert MacAvinney. ‘Although it would be very difficult,’ he said, ‘maybe even impossible to block off all the cave openings from the outside, it may be possible to block them off from the inside. If the belly of the mountain is filling with water,’ little Albert continued, ‘someone in the water would be able to see where the tunnels ended. They would be able to see bubbles coming into the melting water and feeding the fire and block off the tunnels. “Everyone in the town hall agreed that little Albert MacAvinney was exceptionally clever. Old Mrs. MacAvinney, little Albert’s grandmother, beamed with pride.
“Hence the fire brigade scuba squad!”
“Sometimes,” Mum said, “you can see the firemen in the lake or the swimming pool in their fireman’s helmets and fireman’s boots and scuba gear doing drills with their hoses, practicing putting out underwater fires. Or carrying massive boulders from one side of the swimming pool to the other—that’s when they’re practicing blocking up the tunnels and keeping out the bubbles. And, at other times, you see some of them with giant bubble blowers under the water testing other firemen to see if they can spot the bubbles. They often do it all blindfolded, getting ready for the day when Fenrir’s Seat becomes Volcano Mount Violaceous once more.
“So they were the obvious choice,” Mum continued, “when it emerged that the tarantulafish were mucking about on the ferry route again, to scuba on down there, dismantle the web, and create a clear passage.
“But you can’t force them to go,” Granny said.
“Why not?” Dani asked.
“It’s their job. You just said so.” Ruairi was getting suspicious again.
“Ah, you see, actually, it’s not their job really,” said Mum. “It’s just an extra thing they do. The few house fires, chimney fires, oil spills, and road traffic accidents on the island don’t warrant a full-time fire service. The firemen and firewomen are also the local farmers and the butcher, the baker, the cobblers, and a couple of university students. And now the draper is saying he’s not terrified of the tarantulafish, not absolutely terrified out of his skin of them at all—it’s just that the run up to Christmas is his busiest time of year, and he can’t leave the shop. And Mr. Lachlann who owns The Bewildered Inn overheard him say that and spread the word so nearly everyone else is saying the same—they’re not scared of the tarantulafish, not a bit scared. It’s just that Christmas is such a busy time of the year. They can’t close their shops. The customers would be up in arms!
“It’s not a very busy time of year for the cobbler. But he has a migraine. So he’s out too. There’s nothing to be done about it,” Granny said with finality.
“I’m not buying a word of this,” Dani said.
“You’re not?” Ruairi whispered to her. And then he said, louder, “No, me neither. We’re not buying a word of this!”
“Look, darlings. Let’s not let it ruin our holiday,” Mum said. “Dad’ll get here if and when he can. I just want to prepare you in case he can’t make it. You need to be grown-up about it.”
“Okay,” Ruairi mumbled.
“If you want us to be so grown-up about it,” Dani shot back at her mother, “why tell us all that nonsense about tarantulafish and underwater volcanoes? That’s not very grown-up!”
“Grown-up it may not be, Dani,” Granny said over her glasses, “but it’s the truth, the absolute truth, and nothing short of it.”
“Whatever,” Dani said.
“Come on now, kids,” Mum said, “Let’s just concentrate on having the best holiday ever,” she said as cheerfully as possible. She went into the kitchen and made hot chocolate with roasted marshmallows while Granny, Ruairi, and Dani quietly unpacked the decorations.
Ruairi decided that Mum and Granny were probably as disappointed as he and Dani were about Dad and that there was no point in being huffy with them. There was nothing anyone could do. He would just have to hope the weather changed and Dad got to Yondersaay in time for Christmas.
The Violaceous Amethyst
When the decorations were unpacked, and they were set to trim the tree, Granny continued with her story of King Dudo the Mightily Impressive.
“Where were we? Ah, yes, the jarl had brought King Dudo to the foot of an oak tree in the Crimson Forest. The tree moved forward and down as though taking a bow, and said, ‘I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, your kingship.’
“King Dudo stared at the tree, his jaw hanging down. Recovering himself, he said ‘The pleasure is mine.’ Rarelief the Splendiferous grinned from ear-branch to ear-branch. King Dudo even thought he saw Rarelief blush, but it was very hard to tell—his face was made of bark. The tall, skinny oak tree bent a branch down. King Dudo took hold of a twig, and they shook hands.
“King Dudo settled himself on a knobbly root at the base of Rarelief the Splendiferous’s trunk.
“‘I’ll leave the two of you to it,” Jarl Olaf said, swinging his arms and retreating slowly. ‘My liege, Rarelief here will tell you all you need to know about this island, its history, and its many secrets. He was here before any of us were born, and he will be here long after we have all returned to the earth and will give you an objective answer to any question you may ask.’ And with that, Jarl Olaf Barelegs the Balding on Top shuffled off, and King Dudo and Rarelief the Splendiferous were alone.
“Rarelief recounted the history of the island to King Dudo. Within that history was Rarelief himself. He was a tiny sapling when Odin, the majestic father of all Vikings, decided that of all the Viking lands, Yondersaay was the most perfect place to prepare for Valhalla. Odin made the island his home for a short while to explore the landscape and to get to know the people. He bestowed upon the island many of his own powers. He made it his treasure trove—the place where he and his hundreds of thous
ands of followers, over many generations, could amass their personal fortunes and weaponries ahead of their final battle.
“He enshrouded the island in a mysterious invisibility and bestowed upon it many secret gifts, all of which Rarelief the Splendiferous relayed in detail to King Dudo.”
“What were they, Granny? Will you tell us?” Ruairi asked.
“Ruairi, darling, I’m afraid some are so secret that even I don’t know about them. I can tell you about some of the enchantments that Odin bestowed upon the island, and I can also tell you a little bit about each of the Gifts of Odin, but not more than that, I’m afraid. Like I said, the island is shrouded in mystery.” With that, Granny, at the top of a twenty-foot stepladder balanced precariously against the tree, let a flutter of silky silver tinsel icicles float down to land evenly on the branches.
“Odin was a great and powerful god who had battled many great and powerful gods during his hundreds of years in existence. A Nordic god of old, he wasn’t perhaps quite as all-powerful or all-knowing as you might think. Like people, all gods were not created equal. Some were braver than others, some were stronger, and some were craftier. Odin had accumulated the most amazing objects you’ll hear of—some through force of war and combat, and some came to him as gifts and offerings. I will briefly tell you about one treasure.” Granny slowly climbed down the twenty-foot stepladder. She approached the little table by the fireplace where Mum had piled mounds of mince pies and slices of Christmas cake and stacks of fluffy white marshmallows for the hungry tree trimmers.
“Let’s pick one, Ruairi. Can you remember them all?” Dani said. “There’s the Cup of Memory, and the something something Thunderbolt, and the Sword of Lapis Lazuli.”
“And the shield that goes with that,” Ruairi said.
“The Asiatic Shield.”
“Right. And what else?”
“Ooh, ooh!” Dani said. “Tell us about the Black Heart of the Dragon’s Eye. That sounds evil.”
“I want to hear about The Tome of Tiuz,” Ruairi said. “What is a tome and what is a Tiuz?”
Granny, preoccupied, ignored them. She had a sparkly yellow bauble in one hand and a garland of tinsel in the other. She wrapped the garland loosely around her neck like a very shiny scarf and tucked the sparkly yellow bauble under her chin. Then she filled both hands with mince pies and slices of Christmas cake and fluffy marshmallows and slowly and very carefully climbed back up the twenty-foot stepladder beside the Christmas tree. Granny stuffed a few marshmallows into her mouth and the rest into the pocket at the front of her frock.
“I will tell you of one treasure,” she said while chewing marshmallows, “one of Odin’s most prized possessions. And I will tell you about that particular one because it was created right here on Yondersaay. It’s something you haven’t listed yet. Its name has something in common with something else on Yondersaay, something big and rocky and lava spewing.”
“Volcano Mount Violaceous is big and rocky and lava-spewing,” Ruairi said.
“It must be the Violaceous Amethyst!” Dani said.
“Well deduced, the pair of you,” Granny said.
Granny took the sparkly yellow bauble in her one free hand and leaned into the tree to hang it. “Odin first came to Yondersaay because he had heard tell that the Yondersaanian Vikings had no equals in their craftiness in war, their surety upon the waves, and their courage in battle. A great battle was underway between the Yondersaanians and some Vikings from Groenland. Odin observed unseen.
“He chose a position high above the waves of the northern-most seas with a clear view of the ocean and island where the two Viking armies battled tirelessly. He also saw a dozen or so Valkyries riding their airborne horses very close to the action.
“The Valkyries were women, equally admired and feared, who carried out the will of Odin, the father of all Vikings - for he could, if he wanted to, decide the outcome of any given Viking battle. The choosers of the slain, the demigoddesses of death, the Valkyries would select the bravest of those who had been killed in battle, gather their souls, and bring them in triumph to the afterlife in Valhalla.
“Odin loved to watch the Valkyries work. Tough and fierce, they were swift, graceful, and deadly. It was not widely known at this time, but if you were to capture and hold a Valkyrie, you could make her grant you a wish. They were also, as a rule, uncommonly beautiful.
“Odin was a known admirer of beautiful women. On this particular day, Odin caught a glimpse of a beautiful Valkyrie, tall and strong and with eyes a deeper blue than the darkest ocean. She had blond hair to her thighs and skin of the palest ivory. She expertly directed her steed among the warriors in battle. Like the other Valkyries, she wore a scarlet corset and held a shield and a spear. Odin was smitten.
“After the battle, Odin called her to him. He learned her name was Svava, and she was more beautiful up close than Odin had imagined. He told her how her strength and grace had captured his heart and invited her to visit the island of the victorious Vikings with him.
“Svava and Odin retreated to Yondersaay, and there they had, em, they had lots of cups of tea.”
“Yuck! You’re not going to tell us about the ‘cups of tea,’ Granny? Please tell us there’s no ‘tea!’” Ruairi said, doing air quotes with his fingers.
“No, Ruairi, I will not tell you about the ‘tea’ on this occasion. But there may be ‘tea’ later on in the story. I’m not promising anything!” Granny chuckled as Ruairi pretended to be sick into a bucket.
“I don’t mind the kissing so much,” Dani said. “I mean ‘tea.’”
“You’re weird,” Ruairi said.
“Much as Svava loved being on Yondersaay with Odin,” Granny went on, “she longed to return to battle with her sisters. Odin could not convince her to stay with him.
“Determined to bestow a most special gift upon Odin, Svava thought for days about what to give him. What do you get the god with miraculous powers who has everything? He already had a magical horse and enchanted armor. He already had the ability to change his appearance, to disappear from view, to blend, and to escape. It was a tough one.
“Svava knew that as much as Odin was a revered and worshipped god among his friends and subjects, he was hated by his enemies and not always immune to their powers. One night, she asked him who or what could do him most harm, if they really wanted to.
“He said, ‘Few beings exist who are powerful enough to reduce me to dust, and I know of only three who dislike me enough to want me dead.’
“‘Who?’ Svava asked him.
“‘Mr. Jarrig, the Luchrupan, is one. He lives for trickery and mischief. He would have a lot of fun setting a trap for me. Mr. Jarrig is not wholly evil, but he is not wholly good either.
“‘The beautiful goddess Queen Olwen and I have a long and tortured history. She has reason to want me out of the way.
“‘And lastly, there is Mimir the giant, my old mentor. As you know, Svava, the giants and the gods have been enemies for many a century. We just can’t seem to get along for very long. I was very close with Mimir once. A difference of opinion angered him beyond tolerance, however, and we broke from each other after a furious argument.’
“They talked at length about the particular strengths and weaknesses of Jarrig, Olwen, and Mimir. Keeping it secret from Odin and armed with all this new knowledge, Svava went about creating something so transformative, so protecting, and so beautiful, that it would become a legend in its own right.
“Svava cast deep beneath the compressed rock of the Volcano Mount Violaceous to search for the ideal amethyst. Usually, it would take years of excavation, but Svava, with an intuition to match her beauty, uncovered the perfect one in a fraction of that time. She found a faultless stone— small but exquisitely formed and stunning in its opalescence. With the help of her sister Valkyries, she imbued this gem with the powers that would make it a most special parting gift.
“It was particularly powerful b
ecause to the uninitiated it just looked like a pretty trinket, something attractive to hang around one’s neck. In reality, it possessed the power to protect its bearer from intoxication, from poisoning, from transformation, from manipulation even. The stone also possessed the power, like Odin himself, of changing its appearance. Under ordinary circumstances, all things being equal, its color was a tender purple. But when manipulated by its owner, it could become clear or white, even yellow.
“Svava gave her lover this unique gift, the Violaceous Amethyst, and she was gone. Now, back to Rarelief the Splendiferous.”
“That’s it?” Dani interrupted, turning to face Granny.
“But what happened to Svava?” Ruairi asked softly.
“I will tell you all about it, but on another occasion. Unless you’d like me to switch to this story?” Granny asked.
“No, Granny, you’re probably right,” Dani said after a moment.
“We can come back to it another time,” Ruairi agreed.
“Well, all righty then. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. ” Granny took a few marshmallows from the front pocket of her frock.
“Odin settled on the island and decided it was his ideal hiding place. He protected it and enchanted it and bestowed many secret gifts upon it. Next, he set about finding the best place on the island to hide his treasures.
“To help him make up his mind, he made it possible for everything on the island, every leaf and flower and boulder and brook, to speak with him and to answer his questions. For example, he asked the gargling brook and the River Gargle about seasonal swelling and flooding and found out that the banks are routinely burst in winter and the land all about gets soggy and wet—not a good place to hide valuable treasures. They might get washed away one year, or at the very least be exposed if the soil on top was washed away.
The Extremely Epic Viking Tale of Yondersaay Page 8