Miya Black, Pirate Princess I: Adventure Dawns (31 page)

"YARRR!" she cried out, slashing her sword in a wide arc, then reversing it to slash again. The crew backed off a little, but then they were attacking once more—Miya blocked the first strike then cried out as she felt the bite of a knife in her arm, just above her wrist. She lashed out and felt her fist connect with something that crunched hard, then followed through with a quick stab that just nicked the leg of a crewman. Miya straightened and was looking for her next target when she realised that the crew had stopped coming at her; her mind, which to that point had been totally focused on fighting, told her that she'd heard Jean call out "HOLD!" a few seconds previous.

Miya stood, panting, sword still in hand, dripping blood from her wound. The crew parted as their captain stepped forward, her grey eyes unreadable as she looked Miya up and down.

"How old are you?" Jean asked.

"Fourteen."

"I was about that age when I started the life. You've got a good head for battle."

"T-thanks," said Miya.

"And a rather interesting sword, too," Jean said, before drawing her own—a beautiful blood red sabre, gleaming sharp. She gazed at Miya a moment before speaking: "Raise it."

"But—"

"Raise. Your. Sword."

Miya looked at her grandmother a moment, then hesitantly assumed a combat stance, holding her sword at the ready. Instantly Jean was attacking, the sound of steel-on-steel ringing out as Miya parried desperately.

"Stop! I don't want to—"

Miya cut herself off with a low yelp as Jean's sabre nearly caught her knuckles—she jerked her hand back and parried the next blow, then the next, and the next, pushed back by her grandmother's vicious assault. In a matter of moments she had her back to the railing.

"Miya!" she heard Sola call out from below, but had no time to respond or look around. Jean's face was stern, her mouth thin as she lunged at Miya, who took a chance and darted to the side, the crew parting as she leapt up the stairs to the stern deck. Miya turned and parried another blow as Jean pursued her, pushing her grandmother's sabre aside and trying for a strike herself, but that was instantly deflected. Suddenly there was a sharp pain in Miya's side—a shallow wound against her ribs. She gritted her teeth and parried another swift slash, trying to see some opening, some weakness in her grandmother's assault.

"You have speed, use it!" Jean snapped, before stepping back, halting her assault, standing ready. Miya shook her head.

"I don't even want to be fighting you!"

Jean's expression hardened and she was attacking again, spinning to slash at Miya's face—Miya easily dodged, straight into Jean's elbow, which drove hard into her wounded side. Miya gasped as her vision blurred, staggering, turning to face her grandmother, forcing her sword up even as she felt nausea rise.

"You might become a decent swordswoman, given a few decades," said Jean. She slashed at Miya, a play-strike, easily dodged. Miya winced at the pain in her side as she countered, lunging forward, her attack effortlessly pushed aside by Jean.

"Ah!" Miya cried, as she leapt desperately away from her grandmother's flashing blade, narrowly avoiding being cut. She assumed a defensive stance as Jean circled her, heart beating fast as she turned to follow her grandmother's movements, trying to read anything in her calm grey eyes.

"You've obviously practised a lot," said Jean, before striking at Miya's legs, a blow Miya skipped to the left to avoid. "Just as obviously, however, you've never been in a real fight. Never fought for your life."

Miya was silent, could spare neither the breath nor the focus to respond.

"You have potential," Jean continued, as she elegantly stepped aside to avoid a wild swing. "But you haven't the edge necessary to become a truly great swordswoman. What you lack," she said, pushing Miya's next attack aside effortlessly and countering with a flat-bladed slap against her wounded ribs, making Miya hiss in pain, "is determination."

Miya growled and struck once more, but her grandmother wasn't there to receive the blow—she'd slipped to the side somehow. She's fast, Miya thought, as she skipped back to avoid her grandmother's counter-slash, and strong, and she presents no openings ... and she's not even breathing hard ... come on, she must have a weakness, there must be something I can use here—her sabre, it's shorter than my sword, how can I use that?

With a yelp Miya ducked back to avoid yet another slash, began a counter then decided against it, turning the movement into a dodge instead, gaining some distance from her grandmother, some time to think, to calm herself, to focus. She stepped back as Jean closed on her, glanced back just for an instant to judge how far she was from the stern railings, then gasped as Jean's sword flashed before her eyes, just barely managed to bring her sword up in a desperate block.

"Sloppy," Jean said, planting her foot precisely against Miya's chest, pushing her granddaughter back—Miya stumbled but caught herself, forced herself not to fall as she blocked another blow, her arm aching, her hand hot against the sharkskin hilt of her sword as she gripped it tight. She parried another blow and then countered, spinning and slashing. She missed, but only barely, forcing Jean to jump back to avoid a possible follow-up. Miya pressed her advantage, attacking with strong, measured blows, judging each strike as she slashed quick and light, forcing her grandmother to parry or be cut as she struck again and again.

Jean grunted and brought her sabre up against Miya's sword in a hard block, following through with immense, unexpected strength. Miya gasped out as her sword was almost wrenched from her grip, saw her grandmother's sabre coming towards her, knew she couldn't block in time, her only hope was to dodge, to throw herself to the side—

Miya cried out as Jean's sword bit into her arm, the high yelp of pain becoming a defiant growl as she brought her sword around to attack her grandmother, the surprise in those grey eyes all Miya needed to see, and she grinned as she swung hard, swung fast, again and again, slowly pushing Jean back against the stairs to the main deck. With a harsh cry, Miya lunged, forcing her grandmother to fall back or be cut. Jean stepped back, and for a moment Miya thought she was falling before realising that her grandmother was totally in control.

Jean flipped backwards down the stairs and landed gracefully at the bottom, sword raised and ready in an instant.

"How did you do that?" Miya demanded.

"Come down here and I might tell you."

"I don't want to fight."

"Because you know you can't beat me."

"That's not it! I need your help!"

"Then show me your worth and I might consider listening."

Miya looked down at her grandmother for a moment, then she ran and leapt, yelling hard as she jumped down, slashing as she landed then pushing forward, ignoring the pain of impact in her legs. She forced Jean's sword away with her own as her grandmother slashed at her face, then yelled as she lunged forward, then again, then slashed as Jean dodged, reversing that strike to sweep Jean's legs, then as her grandmother jumped over that she saw an opening, what must be an opening.

Everything else faded into insignificance in that one moment, Miya's worries about Clover Island and her parents, the pain of her wounds, the fatigue in her arm, all that was left was the path her sword must take, that her left foot must go here, that her right must brace here, that she must swing just so with all the weight of her body.

Miya committed to the attack totally, yelling out her defiance as the sword her father had given her flashed and struck, Jean hissing and recoiling as a small cut was opened on her cheek. But by putting everything she had into the attack Miya had overextended herself, left herself open. Jean's sabre flashed red and slid against Miya's own cheek, this followed by the hard impact of a punch against her shoulder that sent Miya stumbling, the dull ache of her wound roaring as she saw her grandmother's sword coming at her again—it was too late to dodge, all Miya could do was bring her sword up in a weak block, and then she could only watch as her sword was caught and wrenched from her grip, could only watch as it went spinning through the air, could only watch as it disappeared over the railings, falling into the ocean below.

Without hesitation Miya sprinted for the railings and leapt over the side, diving down towards the grey ocean below, the pain of her wounds flaring as she plunged into the salty water. She forced her eyes open and kicked, hands driving through the water, diving deep, as deep as she could, searching for anything, any glint or flash or gleam of metal, any sign of her father's sword.

Miya pushed herself down, pushed herself onwards, her lungs screaming at her, the water cold and thick around her. She pushed herself further, further than she knew was safe, pushed herself until she knew she couldn't push herself any further, and then she pushed some more.

She didn't see the sword, but as Miya gave one final desperate stroke downwards she felt something hard against her hand and she gripped, and she turned in the water and she struggled up, a tiny voice inside her saying over and over "You're going to drown you're going to drown you're going to drown".

Go away, tiny voice, Miya
thought
, as she swam upwards, sword in hand, even as her vision darkened and she forced her body not to try to breathe water. Head pounding, arms and legs aching, drawing in a breath like she'd never taken before, Miya Black broke the surface, her father's sword gripped tightly in her hand.

After sucking in huge grateful lungfuls of air for a few moments, Miya became aware of an odd noise over the roaring in her ears. It sounded like applause. At first she put this down to the after-effects of diving so fast and deep, but then she looked up at the ship, at her grandmother and her crew, and saw that some of them were clapping, others cheering. Her grandmother was looking down at her, arms crossed, her expression stern but not hostile.

Still staring up at the Endless Adventure, Miya felt a strong hand on her arm, looked around to see Sola in the water with her. He gave her a look which could only be read as 'you are the most difficult girl to deal with sometimes', and then he helped her swim back to the Black Swan.

Once safely on the deck, Miya released her grip on the sword, only realising then that she'd been holding it tightly by the blade. It had cut into her hand, but she hadn't even noticed it—even now it didn't seem to hurt. None of her wounds did.

As she stood on the deck of her ship, staring at her bleeding hand, Miya realised that she was being watched. She looked up to see her grandmother gazing down at her.

"Come aboard," said Captain Jean Scarlet. "If you've a mind to."

*

Although Miya had wanted to re-board the Endless Adventure immediately, Sola insisted on treating her wounds first. It was with great impatience that she sat while her brother washed out the cuts on her hand, arm, and right cheek (that one really stung), and she fidgeted as he wrapped clean white bandages around her hand and arm.

"You were lucky," said Sola. "None of the cuts are serious."

"She was holding back," said Miya. "Playing with me."

"This was not playing," said Sola, as he tightened the bandage around her arm. After making sure it was well in place he stood, then handed Miya the bottle of alcohol and roll of bandages.

"What's this for?" she asked, as he walked towards the door leading out to the deck.

"To dress the wound in your side," he replied, his voice a little rough. "I think perhaps you should do that yourself."

Miya smiled as he fled, then took off her shirt (examining the cuts and blood upon it with a mixture of annoyance and pride) and began cleaning the cut.

It was several minutes later, dressed in a clean white shirt (Miya's last; she hoped nothing serious happened to this one before she had a chance to return home) and with her heart beating fast that Miya climbed the rope ladder on the side of the Endless Adventure, boarding it this time not as an invader, but as an invited guest.

Captain Jean wasn't on the deck, but a crewman with two black eyes and a bruised nose handed Miya her grappling hook and pointed towards the captain's cabin. After a second Miya realised that he must be the pirate she'd smashed in the face.

"Um, sorry," she said, as she passed the grappling hook to Sola. The pirate grinned.

"Ye've a good arm on ye, fer a wee girl. No hard feelings, eh? Believe me, I were tryin' to do the same to ye."

Miya nodded at the pirate, then raised her eyebrows at Sola before walking to the door to the captain's cabin and knocking on it.

"Enter," came Jean's voice from inside, so Miya pushed the door open and walked in.

Jean's cabin was spacious and open, dark wooden walls decorated with a pair of crossed cutlasses and a few well-placed charts. Several large chests sat neatly against one wall, beside a large wardrobe and dresser, and a small, neatly-made bed. The carpet was thick and red, as were the curtains on the windows opposite the entrance. Jean herself sat at a large wooden desk, clear of any clutter. She gestured for Miya and Sola to come and sit, and watched them with amusement in her eyes as they did so.

"You've interested me, girl," said Jean, as Miya sat down. She glanced at Sola. "This your cabin boy?"

"My brother. Your grandson," said Miya. Jean clicked her tongue in an annoyed way.

"How are you in a fight, boy?"

"I don't enjoy fighting."

"Oh?"

Jean's focus turned back to Miya, seemingly losing any interest in Sola.

"But you do, don't you?" she said.

"So now that you know I'm good at fighting, suddenly you're interested in your granddaughter?" Miya asked.

"I don't care whose granddaughter you are, girl. I couldn't care less about your family history or where you came from or what's in your past. All I care about is that you can use that blade of yours, and that you have a lot of heart. Not much sense, maybe, but a lot of heart."

"But ... but we're blood!"