Bride of the Sea_A Little Mermaid Retelling

by Emma Hamm

  Bride of the Sea

  Otherworld Companion Novel #1

  Emma Hamm

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 by Emma Hamm

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by: Magdalena Korz

  Editing by: Amy Cissell

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Map of Uí Néill

  Glossary of Terminology

  Foreword

  Prologue

  1. The Merrow And The Pirate

  2. Of Seas And Storms

  3. Eilean An Fhaerie

  4. Journey To The Depths

  5. A Ship On The Horizon

  6. By Moonlight I Will Love Thee

  7. Bliss And Agony

  8. The Price Of Gold

  9. Pretending To Be Human

  10. Golden Light, Rolling Seas

  11. The Return

  12. Waters Running Red

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Glossary of Terminology

  Tuatha dé Danann - Considered to be the “High Fae”, they are the original and most powerful faerie creatures.

  Seelie Fae - Otherwise known as the the “Light Fae”, these creatures live their lives according to rules of Honor, Goodness, and Adherence to the Law.

  Unseelie Fae - Considered the “Dark Fae”, these creatures follow no law and do not appreciate beauty.

  Máthair - “Mother”

  Bean Sidhe - Also known as a banshee, their screams are echoing calls that herald the death of whomever hears them.

  Hy-brasil - A legendary isle which can only be seen once every seven years.

  Merrow - Also known as a Mermaid, merrows have green hair and webbed fingers.

  Merrow-men - The husbands of their female counterparts are considered horribly ugly with bright red noses, gills, two legs, and a tail.

  Kelpie - A horse like creature who lives at the edge of a bog. It will try to convince you to ride it, at which point it will run underneath the water and drown the person on its back.

  Selkie - A faerie which can turn into a seal, as long as it still has its seal skin.

  Foreword

  This is the first Companion novel in the Otherworld series. What is a Companion novel?

  This story and all others with the “Companion” tag will be about characters in the main stories who might not have gotten a voice otherwise. These are non-royal characters given life in their own stories. They are standalone retellings and can be read in any order.

  As always, I’m not a historian and this is a work of fiction.

  Prologue

  Once upon a time, when the world was new, a tiny seashell washed ashore. She was small and rough, for only a small snail had lived inside her. But she was strong enough to withstand the heaviest of storms and the crushing weight of the ocean.

  Alone and insignificant, she rested on the sands and waited. The seashell didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she was certain it was something big. The land was not quiet like the ocean. People shouted, the ground thundered, the animals were noisy, and the world was very frightening.

  The brave little seashell waited in the sand, buffeted by gentle waves and softened by their wandering touch until she shone like a pearl. She waited and waited until a man stopped right beside her.

  His foot came so close to crushing her that she cried out in fear! He paused—a bear of a man with so much hair she thought him an animal—stooped down and picked her up. Tossing her back and forth between his meaty fists, he stared at her shimmering surface.

  “Hello,” he murmured. “It’s good luck to find such a pretty seashell.”

  She stared up at him in awe. “You think I’m pretty?”

  “I think you’re beautiful.”

  At that moment, the tiny seashell fell in love. She decided his furry face wasn’t quite so loathsome, his booming voice wasn’t too loud, and the bright flash of his smile wasn’t too blinding.

  “Will you come home with me? I shall place you by my bed on a tiny pillow which will keep you safe from all harm,” he asked.

  “Yes,” the tiny seashell whispered. “Yes, I will.”

  He placed her in his pocket which had a tiny hole at the seam. Through the opening, she peered out at the world. It was wondrous and great, far more than a seashell could comprehend.

  The animal-like man placed her atop a velvet pillow and kissed her shiny surface.

  “Thank you for the good luck, little shell. I must go to sea, but when I return, I promise to turn you into a necklace and keep you with me forever.”

  She waited—she was good at that—and waited some more.

  A spider wove her web across the door. The tiny seashell watched her weave, capture food, create a family, and then die. Soon, another spider took her place and unraveled all the work she spent her entire life creating.

  The tiny seashell watched dust settle on the home and on her velvet pillow. The windows cracked in a storm and tiny birds nested in the rafters. Mice tore at her pillow and pulled out the stuffing for their nests.

  And still, the man did not return.

  The Merrow And The Pirate

  Seagulls screamed overhead, their rasping cries echoing in the fresh salt air. The sea rolled in gentle heaves which did not disturb the ship bobbing atop its surface. A faint breeze cooled overheated skin, but it was not enough to fill the sails hanging limply from the mast.

  Manus shaded his eyes staring out at the horizon. It was always the same. A small sliver of hope, the slightest glimpse of land, and a ship that wouldn’t move.

  Such was the life of a sailor. The sea tossed and turned, storms tore at ships and men, and dehydration tore at their bodies. They all did it for one reason.

  Adventure.

  Danger dogged them at every corner, yet each man returned month after month to climb atop the great ship and set sail for new horizons.

  He lifted his face to the wind and breathed in the salty air. It didn’t matter to Manus that they were sitting ducks on the ocean, that their water supply ran low, nor that their food was slowly disappearing.

  As long as he was on the ocean, he could take any beating. Always did, even when he was a child. The old sailors used to call him the street rat born in the arms of the ocean. The boy who was meant to live on a ship.

  “Manus!”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the boatswain. The sturdy man was intimidating on a good day, frightening on a bad one. Oisin knew how to order the men about and get them moving without complaint. It was a talent Manus intended to learn someday.

  “Get yer arse moving, sailor! The wind is bound to blow again!”

  The wind wouldn't move anytime soon. Manus had always felt the weather deep in his bones. Faerie touched, some might call it, although he would never admit to having any marks on his soul. Faeries hadn’t mingled with his family line in a long time.

  But there was one grandmother whose tipped ears made people question how truthful he was when he denied having faerie blood. The ancient crones remembered his loving gram spending hours making certain everyone was well-fed and content. They still thought she was cursed and wanted nothing to do with her, even though she’d bent over backwards to make them happy.

  Shaking his head, Manus tossed the long mane of his hair back and made his way up the netting.

  “Win
d,” he grumbled as he climbed up the mast. “As if there will be any wind in these waters.”

  Not for a few more weeks, at best. He’d suggested last night they put all the men’s backs to use and row. The other sailors nearly shoved him overboard for that proposition.

  The ropes tugged hard, and his feet slipped from their hold. He grasped the horizontal post, glared down at the laughing shipmate, and swore under his breath.

  Manus had bribed his way onto the ship, and now everyone knew because a loud-mouthed shipmate had shouted it during a drunken revelry. He laughingly revealed Manus wasn’t meant to be here at all, but the Captain let him stay for a little bit of coin.

  All chances of a fair trip had shattered at that moment.

  No one wanted a man aboard who didn’t know his way around a ship. Manus told them, time and time again, he knew how to sail. He’d known since the first moment his mother dipped his toes into the water and pressed a kiss to his head.

  They didn’t believe him.

  There was also the slight problem of Manus’s big mouth. He didn’t take shit from any man and solved problems with fists rather than words. On the streets of Uí Néill, it was far easier to push and shove his way out of a bar.

  On a ship? That was a different story altogether.

  He heaved himself to the top of the mast, wrapping his legs around the smooth wood to anchor himself in place. His ribs protested as the stretching movement pushed against the raw bruises blooming across his dark skin.

  Another beating, another day. How many had he endured so far?

  He couldn’t count that high.

  If this was how they wanted to deal with him, then so be it. But, he would be back for the next trip, and the next. When the Captain wouldn’t have any more of him, he would look for another ship.

  The sea called to him like a siren. It wanted him to ride her great swells and feel the kiss of sea spray against his skin.

  Manus whipped a cloth out of his waistband and scrubbed the mast. It wasn’t doing anything. The boatswain kept saying how it was good to clean the mast of salt, but Manus knew it wasn’t that.

  They wanted to keep him away from the real work. Scrubbing the deck put him in the way of everyone. He was a big man, and a ship wasn’t a place for big men. So, they sent him as high up as he could go, out of their line of sight and their hair, told him to clean, and forgot he was there.

  He didn’t mind too much. If anything, this was where he wanted to be. He could see every bit of the water spread out like a blanket around them. Seagulls soared above his head, dolphins leapt into the air with chattering cries, and the clouds created patterns only he could decipher.

  Who wouldn’t love this life?

  Manus spent the rest of his day in the crow’s nest, only descending when the sun dipped below the horizon.

  The rest of the crew slept beneath the deck, other than a single man on watch who sat at the bow and stared out to sea. Manus recognized his face. The only man who didn’t take part in the regular beatings that made Manus’s ribs creak.

  He silently crept up the main deck, readying himself to grab the other man.

  “Don’t, Manus. I don’t have the humor for it tonight.”

  Sighing, Manus slumped next to him on deck. “And why not, Arturo? The world is a grave enough place without people losing their sense of humor. Where shall you go when you can no longer laugh?”

  Arturo sighed, scraggly blonde hair dipping in front of his eyes. “I wished to be home a week ago.”

  “We can’t all have our wishes granted.”

  “My wife was with child when I left. I should be by her side.”

  Manus stared at the dirt underneath his nails. “Why? That is women’s work.”

  “Just because I cannot help her doesn't mean I shouldn’t be there.” When Manus didn’t reply, the sailor leaned down and cuffed him. “Take note! Someday you’ll have your own wife to tend to.”

  “I don’t expect to marry.”

  “Whyever not?” Arturo exclaimed. “Women are wondrous creatures, and they give us a reason to return after a long voyage.”

  “Like what?”

  “A warm bed at night, a willing woman after a long trip, children, food, a clean home. What more shall I tell you?”

  “I can find all of that at a brothel.”

  Arturo rolled his eyes. “Aye, you could. But none of those women are yours. They belong to every man who presses a coin to their palm, and there’s something sweet about knowing a woman is yours alone.”

  “Is it worth that much? I don’t care if a woman stays true, as long as she’s there when I return.”

  “You don’t understand,” Arturo replied, shaking his head.

  Manus gestured to the sea, the ship, and the sky. “What more is there? We’re all here for a reason. The ocean calls to us. She is our mistress and our wife! Why would I need another woman in my life?”

  “Because the sea cannot give you sons!”

  He scoffed. “I have no need of sons. I don’t plan to leave anything behind and wouldn’t be able to give them a comfortable life as children deserve. My father was a brute with a heavy hand. I will not continue the cycle.”

  “Why should you? Stop the cycle and become a good man.”

  “That isn’t an option for me.”

  “Isn’t it?” Arturo looked him in the eye. “Why not?”

  “The same reason I just said. The sea is my mistress.”

  He heaved himself up and leaned over the edge of the ship. Manus reached out a hand, imagining icy spray numbing his fingertips as it did when they sped across the sea with sails full.

  “The sea isn’t a real woman,” Arturo grumbled. “The older you get, the more you’ll realize that.”

  “A woman deserves a faithful husband. I would run away at every chance, just to let my mistress rock me to sleep at her breast.”

  “You haven’t slept on the right woman’s breasts,” Arturo said with a chuckle. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you had.”

  They laughed, making certain the others didn’t hear. The sailors would put an end to it if they knew.

  Shaking his head, Manus patted the sailor’s shoulder. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll keep watch tonight.”

  “The captain won’t like it.”

  “He won’t know, now, will he? Go, sleep. You look like you’re about to keel over, my friend.”

  Arturo lumbered below deck, and Manus stared out at the still sea.

  He meant every word he said. The ocean was more a person to him than many he’d met in his lifetime. Frightening, consuming, and wondrous, it was his life’s calling to devote himself to salt waters.

  Manus stared down into the murky depths and felt a tension ease inside him.

  Sometimes, in the very dead of night, he wondered what was beneath the waves. The great unknown of the ocean was baffling and frightening. There could be creatures staring up, looking right at him even as he stared down into the abyss.

  Saoirse stared up at the silvery light filtering through the surface of the ocean. Its rays pierced through the depths until it was swallowed by the ocean and disappeared. She wished it didn’t.

  Moonlight was so beautiful and less dangerous than its sunny counterpart.

  Merrows weren’t supposed to go to the surface. Too many things hunted them there; humans, ships, sharks, even the occasional faerie would attack the delicate little creatures.

  She nudged aside a strand of hair that floated in front of her eyes. The strand was so inky dark that no one would ever know it was green. Her father called it a shame. She would have been infinitely more beautiful if she had hair like her mother and sisters.

  Saoirse much preferred her dark hair to the vibrant green of her people. She didn’t like the way theirs looked like seaweed waving in the shallows, and besides, she stood out in a crowd.

  The other merrow men didn’t seem to mind her oddities. In fact, most found her differences thoroughly interesting. The
y lifted their webbed hands to touch the strands whenever she passed.

  Saoirse did her best not to shiver in disgust, but the merrow-men were not attractive creatures. Their giant red noses were a beacon that attracted attention to their frog-like faces. Webbed hands and feet kept them firmly at the bottom of the ocean, though their strong tails could propel them forward when needed.

  In contrast, merrow women were beautiful. Their long sleek tails came in a variety of colors, and their smooth skin shimmered in the sunlight. Rainbows danced in the slick webbing between their fingers, and the green hue of their hair mingled with vibrant fish that swam through the long locks.

  She drifted on the currents, letting them drag her deeper and deeper into the abyss. That was where she lived, where her father and his many children waited for her to return.

  Warmth faded from the waters. An icy chill wound around her shoulders and pulled harder, deeper, until darkness covered her vision and even her sensitive eyes were blind.

  This was the part of the ocean that frightened her. Squid could tangle her in their tentacles without her ever seeing them. Saoirse had bumped into whales a few times, terrifying her so much that each time it happened, she remained in her undersea home for a very long time after.

  But she always returned to the surface.

  A tiny light bloomed in the darkness, small but enough that she knew precisely where she was.

  Long ago, when she was very little, Saoirse had stolen a tree sapling and dragged it down with her. The scraggly, dying thing didn’t stand a chance in the deep salt water. Her mother had felt such pity for the daughter who longed for a tiny piece of the land, that she wove a tapestry of magic around an abandoned grotto.