Miya Black, Pirate Princess I: Adventure Dawns

by Ben White

  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!"

  "Only blood I'm interested in is this," said Jean, tapping the side of her face where Miya had cut her. "Listen, girl ... what was your name?"

  "Miya," said Miya. "Miya JEAN Black. Named in honour of—"

  "Miya," said Jean. "Pretty name. Show me your hands."

  "What? I—"

  "Come on." Jean leaned forward and took hold of Miya's wrist, pulling her forward. "How'd you burn yourself?"

  "Putting out a fire in my ship's sails," said Miya defiantly. Jean smiled, just a little.

  "Ever scrubbed a deck?"

  "I ... yes, I clean my ship every month."

  "That puny little thing?"

  Miya bristled and Jean laughed, releasing Miya's hand.

  "Just testing, girl."

  "Stop distracting me," said Miya. "I'm here to ask for your help. My home, Clover Island, it's going to be attacked by a pirate named Badger Pete, he's trying to take over the Rainbow Archipelago ..."

  Miya trailed off as it became clear her grandmother wasn't listening.

  "Stop cleaning your fingernails and listen to me!"

  "Why should I? You've given ..."

  Jean frowned suddenly, then sat forward in her seat, grey eyes piercing as she looked at Miya.

  "Badger Pete, did you say?"

  "Yes!" said Miya. "He's a terrible—"

  "Still around, is he? Thought he would've been keelhauled by his crew well before now," said Jean, mostly to herself. "Interesting. Must've learnt some manners."

  Miya stared at Jean. "You know him?"

  "Ah, who knows anyone. Ran into him a few times years back, when he was just starting out. Cocky little sod. Competent enough but no loyalty to him."

  "Like you can talk!" Miya stood and slammed her hands down on Jean's desk, wincing at the pain this caused in her wounded hand. "Where's YOUR loyalty?"

  "Just where it should be, girl. And I'll thank you to take your hands off my desk. You're dirtying it."

  Miya looked down at her hand and scowled—she was bleeding through the bandage. She sat back and pulled the bandanna off her head, wrapping it roughly around her hand to stop any further bleeding, while Jean opened a drawer and took out a clean white handkerchief, which she used to wipe Miya's blood from the desk.

  "Take care of your possessions," she said, conversationally, "and they'll take care of you."

  "And what about your family?" Miya demanded. "Take care of the people that you care about and they'll take care of you!"

  "People is different," said Jean, her voice low. "And I don't have no family. Told you already."

  "BUT YOU DO!"

  "Don't get so het up, girl. Bad for your digestion."

  "Gah! You're as bad as Grandad!"

  Jean eyed Miya. "Met the old coot, did you?"

  "He wouldn't help either," muttered Miya, arms crossed in front of her. Suddenly she sat forward, pointing at her grandmother. "Ah! So you acknowledge that he's family!"

  "He's my damned fool of an EX-husband," said Jean. "And that ain't the same thing at all. Now get that finger out of my face before I bite it off."

  Miya sat back in her seat, arms crossed once again. "Harrumph," she said.

  "So young Peter's got his sights set on the Rainbow Archipelago, does he?" muttered Jean. "Wonder why that could be."

  "Who cares why he's doing it, he's got to be stopped!"

  "Why?"

  "Because ... because it's wrong!"

  Jean leaned back in her seat. "Oh?"

  "What do you mean, 'oh?', of course it's wrong!"

  "Says who?"

  "Says ME!"

  "And who are you to judge?"

  "I ... I'm ..."

  "I may not like the little sod, but it's a free ocean. If he can, who's to say he shouldn't?"

  "How can you THINK like that?"

  "Because," said Jean, leaning forward, reaching out and taking hold of Miya's chin in a firm grip, "I'm a pirate."

  "No!" Miya tried to push her grandmother's hand away, but her grip was too strong. She glared at her. "That's NOT what a pirate is!"

  "I've got near fifty years on you, girl. Think I might be the higher authority here. Sit yourself down, boy," Jean said, as Sola rose, "or I'll put my knife through your eye, don't think I won't."

  Sola glanced at Miya, who nodded as well as she could. He sat again, watching Miya and their grandmother, worried.

  "Being a pirate's about—"

  "Being a pirate's about freedom, girl. The freedom to do what you want, to who you want, as long as you've got the guts and the heart to back yourself up."

  "IT'S NOT!"

  Miya wrenched at her grandmother's wrist, breaking her grip and slamming her hand hard against the desk. Almost faster than the eye could follow, Miya drew her knife and drove it down.

  Jean looked at her granddaughter a long moment, then she grinned.

  "By hope, you've got some guts, girl. You'd be lucky to leave this room breathing, pulling a gag like that."

  Miya's knife was still quivering where she'd driven it deep into the desk, between two of Jean's fingers. Jean grabbed the knife by the handle and pulled it from the desk.

  "Nice edge. Sharpen it yourself?" she asked. Miya shook her head.

  "It was a gift," she said. "From someone who cares about me."

  "There you go again." Jean tossed the knife into the air, caught it by the blade, then offered it back to Miya, hilt-first. "Someday you're gonna learn, girl, that the people you care about are the ones that hurt you the worst."

  Miya took the knife silen
tly and returned it to its sheath. Jean sighed.

  "Is there any hope for you?" she murmured. She looked at Miya a moment, then stood. "Get up," she said, walking to the cabin door.

  Miya turned in her seat, then stood and followed Jean out onto the deck, Sola behind her.

  "What do you think of my ship?" Jean asked. Miya shrugged.

  "It's okay."

  "Oh?"

  Miya struggled with herself a moment, then said: "I suppose one could say that it's reasonably impressive."

  "Could 'one'? One might say that it's the most impressive pirate ship one's ever seen, mightn't one?"

  Miya half-shrugged. "One might."

  "Where would you say it's from?"

  Miya thought. It didn't look like any ship she'd ever seen before—but the sleekness of it was somewhat familiar ... and everyone knew Algernian ships were among the best in the world—

  "Algernon?"

  "Hah. You ain't thinking pirate, girl. Where's this ship from? From the sea. There ain't another like it, not in these waters, not in any waters. She's strong and she's fast and she turns so clean you could eat your dinner off her wake."

  Miya attempted to make a kind of unimpressed shrug.

  "Care to trade?"

  "What?" Miya turned and looked up at her grandmother. "What do you mean?"

  "I like the look of your ship, and from what I've seen it's a fast little devil. I'm tired of managing this lot—they're as fine a crew as a captain could ask for, sure, but there are times you want to be living only for yourself. Sail without care for others, seek out adventure wherever it may lie. What do you say, Miya? Trade?"

  "No!"

  "Why not?" Jean asked. "Seems like you'd be getting the better half of the deal."

  "But that's my ship! MY ship! And this is YOUR ship, right? You can't just ... I mean ... it's MY ship!"

  Jean smiled. "So it is. Hope's truth, but you remind me of someone. How would you feel about joining my crew?"

  Miya shook her head. "No."

  "It's rare that I offer this, especially to someone your age."

  "I can't join your crew—I need your help! Badger Pete's already enslaved Sola's people—all of the northern islanders. My home is going to be attacked, can't you understand that? I can't just run away. It's my home, Grandmother!"

  Jean leaned on the railing of her ship, looking down at the Black Swan. She sighed, short and resigned.

  "There's your mistake," she said. She turned and looked at Miya. "Where are you from?"

  "F-from Clover Island, of course!"

  Jean shook her head. She called to a nearby crewman. "You. Where are you from?"

  "From the sea, Captain," he replied, promptly.

  "You," said Jean, turning to address another of her crew. "Where's your home?"

  "The sea, Captain."

  "All on board the Endless Adventure!" called Jean, her crew looking up from their tasks. "Where are you from?"

  "FROM THE SEA!" came the chorused response.

  "Aye," said Jean. She fixed her gaze on Miya. "From the sea."

  "But—"

  "A pirate," said Jean, "comes from the sea. They live on the sea. They have no attachments, no responsibilities save those to their captain, their fellow crew, and to their ship. So tell me, girl. Are you a pirate?"

  Miya narrowed her eyes.

  "Yes," she said.

  Jean took a step closer to Miya.

  "Where are you from?" she asked, her voice low. Miya glared up at her grandmother.

  "I'm from Clover Island, in the Rainbow Archipelago, in the Western Necessary Ocean. My father is Tomas Black, and my mother is Lily—QUEEN Lilith Black. My brother is Sola of Tonfa-Tonfa, and my grandfather is ... is Jonathan Black. My uncle is Lars Bako and my best friend is Penny Buck."

  Miya stepped up to Captain Jean Scarlet, her face set.

  "And my grandmother," she said, "is Jean Scarlet—Jean BLACK. And if you're not going to help me fight for my home then I don't want ANYTHING from you."

  Miya turned on her heel and strode towards the side of the ship, Sola beside her, silently supporting. She stopped at the ladder, one hand on the railing.

  "What's the point of being strong," Miya asked, turning to look back at her grandmother, "if you have nothing to fight for?"

  *

  Miya stared back at the Endless Adventure as she and Sola sailed away, watched as it pulled up anchor and began to move, on a different course to them.

  "Huh," Miya huffed, turning away and crossing her arms. "Forget her, then. She's just a selfish old woman."

  She stood there a moment, straight and proud, glaring out to sea, her dark eyes taking in the overcast sky and dull, grey water. Then she sagged.

  "And I'm just a selfish little girl," she muttered. "What am I doing out here? Why did I come all the way out here, why am I so far from home now, when it needs me most?"

  "Perhaps I should have spoken to them," said Sola, hesitantly.

  Miya looked up at him with a sad smile. "I didn't really give you a chance, did I? I'm sorry, Sola."

  Sola thought for a moment, then shook his head. "All that you said to them ... I had nothing to add. It was their choice."

  Miya looked at Sola helplessly, then turned away, staring out to sea once more. Absently, she rubbed at the cut on her cheek.

  "Their choice," she repeated, as if trying to understand the words. "If I could've ... if they weren't so ... if I could have just made them understand ... but I should have known, I should have guessed, they haven't been a part of our lives before now, what did I think? That they were just busy? That they just had other stuff to do for fourteen years? No ... Dad was right. He knew. They made their choice a long time ago."

  Miya was silent. She looked up as a sail fluttered, then walked to the mast.

  "You did something," Sola said, as Miya began to climb. "You didn't sit around waiting for Badger Pete to take everything. You made a plan and you stuck to it, far past the point others would have given up. You did something, Miya Black. That it failed—"

  "That it failed may mean Clover Island falls," said Miya, as she reached out to pull on a rope, tightening it. "And it failed as soon as I made the choice to search for our grandparents. It was the wrong plan, Sola, the wrong choice. I should have ... I should have chased Dad, helped him maybe. Or sailed to the southern islands, tried to rally any free ships into defending the archipelago. Or gone to Algernon and tried to hire mercenaries. There was a plan that would have worked," she said, tying the rope and securing the sail so that it was taut and full. "I don't know what it was. But it wasn't mine."

  Sola watched as Miya climbed down, watched her sit heavily on the deck, watched her lean back against the mast.

  "What am I doing out here?" she muttered. "What am I doing in the Diamond Isles when my home—when my FAMILY is in danger?"

  Sola put his hand on Miya's shoulder.

  "Let's go back," he said. "To Clover Island. We can still fight."

  Miya frowned up at her brother.

  "But you hate fighting," she said.

  Sola smiled down at his sister.

  "When you have something worth fighting for, it is easy to put aside hate."

  15

  Home Fires Burning

  "Miya, no!" Sola roared, grabbing for his sister as she ran for the edge of the ship, getting a grip on her arm and spinning her around. "What are you doing?"

  "Swimming!"

  "You are on a ship—you are on YOUR ship, the Black Swan, the fastest ship in the Necessary Ocean. You couldn't possibly swim faster than we are travelling now!"

  Miya looked at Sola a moment, then collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

  "I can't do nothing!" she cried. "I can't just stand here, waiting for this ship to get me where I have to be, I can't! I've got to DO something to get to them!"

  Sola pushed Miya back and slapped her. She stared at him, shocked.

  "You can't slap me!" she cried. "I'm a girl!"

 
"You are Princess Miya Black of Clover Island," said Sola. "You are not a spoiled little girl who cries when things are not going as she would like them to. You are not a weak, scared, helpless princess. You are a strong, brave, pirate princess."

  He took Miya's shoulder and turned her to look at the distant smoke, at the dozens of ships surrounding Clover Island. "That is your home," he said. "Look at it. What do you see?"

  "Sola ..."

  "What do you see?"

  "It's ... it's burning."

  "Take the spyglass," he said, handing it to her. "What do you see?"

  "It's still burning, Sola, I don't—"

  "What is burning?"

  "The island! Clover Island!"

  "WHAT is burning?"

  Miya looked at Sola, then, blinking tears from her eyes, she looked through the spyglass again.

  "The ... the jungle. Some ships."

  "Whose ships?"

  Miya sniffed.

  "Badger Pete's," she said.

  "What else do you see?"

  "The Black Navy, some of it." Miya sniffed again, then adjusted the spyglass. "Five ships. Two brigs and three corvettes. That's ... I think those are the ships Dad didn't take with him. Dad—"

  "Focus."

  Miya nodded, then adjusted the spyglass. "They're keeping Badger Pete's ships away from the harbour. They can't even get close, so ... so they've attacked other parts of the island. But Clover Island is mostly surrounded by cliffs and shallow bays. The harbour's the only place any kind of warship can get close—Sola, they can't get close enough to land anywhere." Miya stopped sniffing as she talked, her voice getting stronger and more defiant with every word. "So they've fired at the jungle, used fireshot or something to set it alight, but there's a firebreak between the jungle and the town. It won't reach Blackport. Oh ... but the monkeys ..."

  "Monkeys are clever enough to run from fire. Focus."

  "Badger Pete's ships are ... they're crewed by idiots. They should be doing better than they are. There are dozens of them and only five Black Navy ships," Miya said, pride coming to her voice now. "We're fighting off dozens of enemy ships with just five of our own."

  "The Black Navy's captains and crews are skilled and disciplined—"

  "And all Badger Pete's crews are fighting for is money," Miya said. She frowned as she continued looking through the spyglass. "There's a huge ugly white frigate anchored a distance away from the battle, that's got to be Pete's flagship. He's sitting back and watching. He's not even—NO!"