The Extremely Epic Viking Tale of Yondersaay by Aoife Lennon-Ritchie Page A

hill. Usually, lots of boats come to and fro, in and out of the harbor, but today all you could see were the little sailboats and fishing boats bobbing in the water, anchored to the spot. Nothing’s come in. And nothing’s gone out.”
    “Let me guess—the tarantulafish are eating all the boats that try to go in or out.” Dani was not convinced.
    “Close. They’re not eating the boats—they only eat meat—they’re blocking them. The tarantulafish have a gigantic web under the waves inside a massive burrow that stretches for miles, and they live there for most of the year. Some people think the burrow starts at the mouth of the River Gargle, where the river runs into the sea. Others think it’s just off the Beach of Bewilderment.
    “The strands of the web seem to be dangerously high in the water at the moment. A few were spotted by the lobster fishermen early this morning when they were coming home after a night in the boats. They narrowly missed being trapped. I spoke to them personally early this morning when I went to the bakery for the croissants. They radioed out a warning and all ferries to and from the island have been suspended until further notice. Dad’s rubber dinghy would never make it through,” Mum said, folding her arms.
    “That won’t stop Dad,” Ruairi said to Dani. “He’ll find a way.”
    “Dad’ll be here. I know he will, there’s always the airport or the helipad. He can get the department to loan him a helicopter.”
    “‘Lend,’ Dani!” Mum said. “If only there wasn’t a storm on its way in from Shetland … Unfortunately, all flights, in all aircrafts, have also been suspended until further notice.”
    “Hmm … Funny how we’ve never heard about these tarantulafish before now. You make us watch the news headlines every night, and never once has the newscaster said anything about tarantulafish,” Dani said.
    “Yeah!” said Ruairi. “Not once.”
    “That’s not the least bit odd,” said Granny, affronted. She was back now with seven sandwiches on a plate. “They are Yondersaanian tarantulafish. They belong on the Yondersaanian evening news. What would we be doing telling the international news community about our tarantulafish? The idea of it!”
    “Turn on the local news then, Granny,” Dani said slyly. “Let’s see what they have to say about them.”
    “Well, wouldn’t you know? We’ve just missed the evening news,” said Granny.
    “Pity,” said Mum.
    “Convenient,” said Dani.
    “We’ll catch the morning news tomorrow,” Granny said. “In the meantime, the mayor has tried to call the fire brigade onto the case because they’re trained for such eventualities, being firemen and all.”
    “Trained to fight imaginary sea creatures?” Dani asked.
    “Exactly! Um, no, not quite. They’re trained in underwater firefighting,” Mum explained.
    “Oh! Now I know you’re talking pants,” Dani said “There’s no such thing as an underwater fire. That’s just impossible.”
    “Improbable, certainly. Impossible, not at all,” Mum said.
    “Look out the window,” said Granny. “Do you see that mountain?”
    “Yes,” Dani and Ruairi groaned together.
    “You would have to be positively blind not to notice the mountain,” Dani said.
    “It’s Fenrir’s Seat,” said Ruairi.
    “Well, it wasn’t always Fenrir’s Seat,” Granny said. “Good gracious. Do they teach you history at all in that school of yours? A fair while back, when I was a tiny little girl, so not a year or two ago—”
    “I’ll say,” Ruairi whispered to Dani.
    Granny shot them a side-eye glance and continued, “Fenrir’s Seat was not Fenrir’s Seat, but a furiously angry volcano called Volcano Mount Violaceous. Very temperamental, it was. It would erupt at a moment’s notice and spew filthy ash all over the island.
    “Then, all of a sudden, things changed. One Christmas morning, the island woke up, and there were no rumblings or spewing noises coming down the peaks