A Promise of Salt and Sky

Robert Luke Wilkins

Muirenn stood atop the moonlit cliff, her raised hands bloody from the shell fragments she grasped. She pulled back her arms, and the cold, salt air of the ocean surged over her. Then she swept her arms forward, and the island air rushed out, warm and scented of clover.

Hear my plea. Speak to me!

Back and forth she drew the wind, as the ocean crashed against the shore. In the spray and the moonlight, three translucent figures formed.

“You ask us again, so soon?” whispered one.

Muirenn let her arms fall. “Soon? Seven years I have waited, since you refused my offer.”

Seven years and she was now wed, with a daughter in whom the blood ran true and strong. She had kept Áine at a distance. She dared not bond with her, not with what she needed to do. Her husband would love Áine enough for both of them.

“It is happening as I foresaw. The sheep grow thin. The trading boats founder in the storms. The fish and birds shun our isle. The land yields little.” She set her jaw. “Once more, I offer myself, that our lands should grow fertile again.”

The three circled her in a slow dance, transfixed ocean spray glittering in the bright moonlight.

“Skills and blood should have served you well, yet you failed to keep the life lines running,” said a whisper on the wind.

“You are too weak to quicken the oceans and skies,” said a second voice. “Why should She wish to take you?”

“It is all I can offer.” Muirenn said.

“Your daughter,” said the third. “You could offer your daughter.”

“No! She will be stronger than me, She will serve our folk as I could not. But these islands must survive until she is ready. Accept my life. I give it freely.”

The three conferred, in whispers like surf on sand, looking down on her from hidden eyes.

They paused. Then listened.

“She will hear you,” said one. “But no promises are given to you. Only possibilities.”

The three rose up, away, and dissolved back down into the ocean. Muirenn’s chest filled with a deep rumbling, and all around her trembled. A roar rose louder and louder, until ocean waters burst upwards and before her, clad in salt and shells and scales and starlight, rose Nehalennia. At one glance, a transparent sea serpent, at another, a great sea bird, wings outstretched.

Muirenn knelt, head bowed.

“My Queen, I offer my life, for the life of the lands and people. Let our islands quicken again, and thrive.”

She felt the tingle of salt spray, and a strong current like the pull of the receding tide.

“Your life?” Nehalennia spoke, in a voice of ocean waves and the cries of sea birds. “That poor, loveless thing? These islands need an offering of true power.”

Muirenn’s thoughts flashed to her daughter Áine’s smiling face.

“Yes, she would serve well. A far brighter light than you have made of your own life. Give me her, and I will save these islands for you.”

Muirenn shot to her feet, fists clenched.

“She is mine to protect, not to sacrifice.”

Nehalennia laughed. “Ah, there it is,” she said, in ocean roars. “The bright life you refuse to love. She would be better off with me.”

“You cannot have her!”

“Nor will I have you. What sacrifice is it, to give up a life already abandoned? There is no flow of power in that. When the sun rises, return to your home, Live in it. Make it a true home. Love your daughter and husband, open to the life of your people and islands. Make your offering a rich one. When your life is so full and joyous you are pained to leave it, return, and then I will take you.”

Trembling, Muirenn looked up, and met Nehalennia’s eyes shining with the fire of Sun on water. “But our lands die now. They cannot wait.”

Laughter again, “You would have me fulfill my side of the bargain, while yours remains unmet?”

“We are your people, and cannot live without you, but if all of us perish, and we shall, who will remain to sing your praises? The birds and the fish?”

Nehalennia darkened the island in storm, and Muirenn hunched over, eyes down. The storm raged but a moment, leaving Muirenn wet with tears and rain.

“Very well. Because you are my people, your lands will thrive. But think not to deceive me. This life of yours is mine now. If I return to find you still lacking, I shall reclaim my gifts, threefold.”

Nehalennia rose high, bright against the moonlit sky, and poured crashing back into the ocean. A thick plume of salt spray rose up and across the moon as she vanished then rained down like crystals into the sea.

Muirenn fell to her knees, drained, until the ocean stilled and the first rays of dawn outlined the homes of her village.

Live fully. Love Áine, love your husband.                                               

Lacking the power to sustain the islands, she had denied herself those things. If she had nothing, there’d be nothing to lose, nothing to hold her back. Now…

When your life is so full and joyous you are pained to leave it, return, and then I will take you.

Out on the horizon, a large flock of gannets were flying toward the island. A greater number than had been seen in years. Nehalennia’s gifts already being faithfully given.

There was no use in dread. She had kept joy at arm’s length and it had got her nothing. She would go home, and she would embrace her husband, her daughter. She would love them as she ached to, as they deserved. She would be a real part of the islands. And there would be true power in that.

Muirenn stood, left fear on the cliff, and turned home to joy.

END

“A Promise of Salt and Sky”  ©   Robert Luke Wilkins, first published here in Cosmic Roots & Eldritch Shores on May 27, 2024
Robert Luke Wilkins – Originally hailing from the green hills of North East England, Robert was raised by a mad poet and a voracious book-hound, with a French smuggler for a family friend, so becoming a writer was almost inevitable. These days, he calls Nevada home, where he lives with his wife and their two surprisingly mellow cats, Teddy Logan and Mochi Luna. You can find him online at www.robertlukewilkins.com, on Twitter as @RobertLWilkins, and as @robertlukewilkins.bsky.social on BlueSky.

“Calling the Moon”,  Fran Eisemann.
Stock Used: Model:  “Learning to Fly”   by  JL Modelstock
“MoonSTOCK”  by wyldraven
landscape from Pixabay and public domain

Audio background: Youtube Audio Library

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