by Ben White
"I don't call that any kind of way to behave at all," she said. "Swinging on the chandelier, I ask you. Honestly. And the language in that place! I've never heard such things! And the clothing on the women! Or the lack thereof, I should say."
Sola was still blushing.
"Well, anyway," Miya continued, "at least people knew her name this time, even if they were too drunk to even point us in the right direction. Let's find another pub, and—hey, where are you going?"
Sola was walking across the street, to a shifty-looking character seated on a barrel.
"Excuse me," he said. "I'm looking for Jean Scarlet."
"Yeah? So what?"
"I'm sorry," said Sola. He held up a copper coin. "What I meant to say was, I'm looking for Jean Scarlet."
"Ye've missed her," said the man, reaching out for the copper coin, which Sola moved out of the man's reach simply by raising his hand a few inches.
"Missed her how?"
"She's headin' out tonight, she'll have cast off by now."
Sola looked at the man a moment, then held out the copper coin, which the man made disappear astonishingly quickly.
"Thank you," said Sola.
"Nah, thank you," said the man. "Best run if you wanna catch her, mate."
Miya was already halfway down the street, off to a somewhat sloppy start but accelerating fast.
"Come ON!" she shouted back at Sola, who ran after her, catching up easily thanks to his longer legs. She scowled as she glanced at him.
"It doesn't seem fair somehow that you're a faster runner than me," she said. "I should be the quick one."
The mist was clearing as they neared the docks, and they could see the Endless Adventure in the distance, sailing away.
"We can catch her, we can still catch her!" shouted Miya. She pulled out her knife as she skidded to a stop, slashing at one of the ropes tying the Swan to the pier and severing it in a single strike.
"Get the other one!" she called to Sola, leaping on board and into the rigging, hurriedly letting out the sails. The ship began to move away from the docks even before Sola had finished untying it, and he jumped on board as Miya unlocked the wheel.
"She's fast!" said Miya, giving up the helm to Sola and leaping back into the rigging, a wild grin on her face. "For a big ship, she's VERY fast!"
"But we can catch her," said Sola, holding the wheel steady.
"The Black Swan is the fastest ship in the ocean!" Miya cried, jumping down from the rigging and taking the helm. "We can catch ANYTHING!"
Despite Miya's words, she and Sola had to work hard to gain on the big frigate—its sails were large and many, and the wind was strong. But gain they did, slowly but surely, and as the Endless Adventure passed the turtle's head rock that gave the island its name they managed to catch up to it. A man wearing a red bandanna looked down at them from the railings as they drew alongside.
"What do YE want?" he called.
"I want to speak with my grandmother!" Miya called back, proudly. Sola leaned down to her:
"Nobody on that ship knows who you are," he whispered. "Most likely they don't even know that Jean Scarlet IS a grandmother."
"Oh," said Miya. "Then I want to speak with your captain!" she called. The man squinted down at her a moment, then disappeared. Miya danced impatiently from foot to foot as she waited, then, unable to stand not doing anything, she leapt into the rigging and climbed up to the crow's nest, which meant she was at about the same level as the Endless Adventure's main deck. There were dozens of crew on board, most of them busy tying ropes or stowing barrels and crates. Miya watched them, wide-eyed, then almost gasped as the captain emerged from her cabin.
She was tall, probably not quite six feet, but close to that. Her face was strong, not as old as Miya had expected but certainly weathered. She had a long scar next to her left eye, running down her cheek. What Miya could see of her hair was red but greying, mostly tucked up under a black tricorn hat with a large red feather stuck in it. Her clothes were elegantly practical, black and red in colour, and with polished gold buttons.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
Jean Scarlet's voice was sharp and demanding, a voice not to be disobeyed. Miya swallowed hard, then stood as tall and proud as she could and said:
"I am Miya Black of Clover Island. I'm ... I'm your granddaughter."
Jean stared at Miya for several seconds.
"I don't have a granddaughter," she said, firmly.
"No, you do! My father is your son, Tomas Black—"
"I don't have a son, either," said Jean. She turned away.
"But—"
"Break away from their ship!" she called. She glanced back at Miya, a hard look in her grey eyes, then turned and walked away
Miya stood in the crow's nest, staring after her grandmother, utterly shocked.
Then her eyes narrowed.
Jaw set, Miya grabbed a rope and slid down to the deck, then snatched a grappling hook from inside her cabin. She swung it once then let it fly, not even testing its hold before leaping from the deck of the Swan and swinging towards the Endless Adventure. Her feet hit the wooden side of the ship with a heavy impact, then she was climbing, pulling herself up quickly. As she vaulted over the railing the crew nearby shouted and drew weapons; Miya responded by drawing her own sword.
"Grandmother!" she yelled. Jean, who had walked to the opposite side of the ship, turned, angry.
"How DARE you step foot on my ship without permission!" she hissed.
"I'm sorry, but I had to! You DO have a son! And a granddaughter! And a grandson, even! And we all need your help!"
Jean's mouth was a thin line. "I should have you cut down where you stand," she said. Miya drew herself up, her knuckles white as she gripped her sword.
"By this rabble?" she said. "I'd like to see them try."
Jean stared at Miya coldly.
"So would I."
Miya gasped as the crew attacked, just barely defending against the first strike, which came from a cutlass-wielding crewman on her left. She parried and then countered, but he leapt back as another crewman attacked from Miya's right, swinging a belaying pin down hard at her head. She dodged, but this put her in danger from two more crew, who slashed and stabbed at her with long, curved knives. Miya parried one and then threw her sword from right hand to left, swinging hard towards the arm of the second attacker. She scored a hit, hearing the man grunt in pain, but then a strong impact from the right caused her to stagger—one of the crew had hit at her arm with a belaying pin. Miya gripped her sword tight and looked around, trying to find an opening, some way to gain an advantage, but the crew were too close around her, too many.
"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 stanc
e, 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.
14
That Which Must Be Lost
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."