The Black Swan was anchored beside a long reef of high, jagged rocks, around an hour’s sailing from Biscuit Cove. Miya was snoring gently in her bed, Sola having offered to take the first watch.
“Miya.”
“Mm?”
“It’s your turn.”
“What? No way.”
“You’ve had five hours sleep.”
“I have not.”
Sola held up the battered pocket watch Miya kept beside her bed. She rubbed her eyes and blinked at it.
“Huh,” she said.
After splashing some water on her face Miya woke properly, and as Sola retired to his cabin she began her watch. It was another clear night—weather in the archipelago was usually fairly stable, especially in the summer, although Miya could remember a couple of fierce hurricanes leading to some exciting times—battening down everything loose and sheltering inside with boards nailed over the windows. Her house had a lot of windows and a dozen people from the town had helped secure them, and she and her mother had made a huge pot of soup and roasted a couple of chickens and baked a mountain of cakes, and they’d all sat down in the big dining room and feasted and talked and laughed, shouting over the noise of the hurricane as it battered the island. After the winds had died down Miya had been the first out the door, running around the island looking at all the damage the hurricane had done—she remembered that the stable’s big double doors had come clean off, and all the horses were huddling at the other end.
“That was a fun hurricane,” Miya said to herself, as she paced along the length of her ship. Then she frowned, remembering that Peter Threep had been out fishing at the time the storm hit, and they’d never found a trace of either him or his boat.
“Maybe not quite that fun,” she sighed, leaning on the railing as she looked out at the reef—in the moonlight it seemed almost threatening, jagged rocks stretching higher than the Swan’s mast in some places.
“Like teeth,” she murmured, reaching out to trace their outline in the air. “Big, giant teeth like from a monster shark.”
Miya shivered a little as the thought of one of her childhood fears came unbidden—panther sharks. She’d first learnt about them when she was six years old, and it had taken almost a year of reassurance from her father before she’d accepted that they didn’t come far enough south to show up anywhere near Clover Island.
“It’s not in this kind of situation that you have to be careful of them, anyway,” she said, the urge to hear a voice—even her own—suddenly strong. Miya shook herself, then went and fetched her rocks, which she squeezed while sitting with her back against the mast. After around quarter of an hour of this exercise she put down the rocks and stood up, checking around with her spyglass, but she didn’t see anything out of place in the surrounding waters. Instead of picking up her rocks again Miya drew her sword, duelling imaginary opponents up and down the main deck for another quarter of an hour before stopping to check the area with her spyglass again. After seeing nothing, she sat against the mast and picked up her rocks once more.
So Miya’s watch went, until the sky began to lighten and Sola emerged from his cabin.
“Did you see anything?” he asked.
“There were a couple of ships in the last hour or so,” said Miya, as she and Sola began preparing the ship to sail. “All of them small and fast, smugglers I figure. They were all heading out of the archipelago. No sign of Grace or any trouble, though.”
Sola nodded, untying a rope as Miya busily checked the rigging.
“I spent some time this morning studying the chart,” he said, “and I may have a plan.”
“Oh?”
“There is a reasonably large island to the south, marked on the chart as being uninhabited. ‘Paradise Island’. I think you mentioned it once before. It’s around half a day’s clear sailing away. After that last
disaster—”
“Adventure!”
“—I think we should gather food and water ourselves. We can anchor at Paradise Island and spend the rest of the day preparing—hunting, fishing, gathering fruit, filling our water barrels if there is a water source there. We can make a fire and smoke the meat and fish.”
“That sounds kind of fun, but it ALSO sounds like it’d take more than half a day,” Miya said, as she finished tying a knot. “Pull up the anchor, would you kindly?”
“Yes, it’s possible that we’ll need to spend some time tomorrow there also,” said Sola, as he pulled on the rope attached to the anchor. “It’s difficult to predict without knowing what the island holds.”
“Seems kind of dicey,” said Miya. She jumped down from the rigging. “And more delays aren’t what we need right now. I have another plan.”
“What’s that?”
“Piracy!”
Sola looked at Miya.
“Well, I AM a pirate,” she said. “And I was thinking, if we steal supplies from ANOTHER pirate, or a smuggler even, it’s kind of fair. Right? They probably stole the stuff in the first place, or used ill-gotten gains to buy it … and I bet smugglers wouldn’t put up much of a fight.”
“I think foraging for supplies may be less dangerous.”
“Less fun, you mean,” Miya pouted, unlocking the wheel. “Here, take the helm.”
Sola did so as Miya climbed back up into the rigging and unfurled the main sail. It caught the wind and they began moving, sailing away from the jagged, teeth-like rocks.
“I still think we should head for Paradise Island,” Sola called out. “Perhaps if we see a pirate ship or smuggler on the way then we can reconsider—”
“There’s one!”
Miya, still in the rigging, had her spyglass out and was looking to the north, to the other side of the reef they’d anchored behind for the night.
“What?” said Sola.
“There’s one right here! Really close! It’s on the other side of the reef, maybe it was there the whole time! It’s a cute little corvette, I think it’s anchored. They must be asleep!”
“How do you know it’s a pirate ship?” Sola asked.
“They’re flying a black flag.”
“Aren’t we also flying a black flag?”
“No! Ours has a big green clover in the middle of it, it’s completely different! Their flag’s just black. That means they’ll give quarter if the ship they’re attacking surrenders. It’s like saying ‘we’re gonna attack ya but don’t worry, we just want your stuff’. Therefore, pirates!”
Sola frowned. “May I have the spyglass?”
Miya jumped down and handed it to him.
“There’s no one on board,” he said, looking through it. “It seems odd that they wouldn’t post a night watch.”
“Maybe they’re lazy. Or stupid! That’s even better.”
“Why would they be flying a black flag while the ship is anchored?”
“Probably they forgot to take it down after their last round of plundering,” said Miya. “After all, we’ve already established that they’re lazy and stupid. It fits the profile.”
“Wait, I see someone on the deck.”
“Really? May I?”
Miya took the spyglass from Sola and looked through it. “Oh yeah. Hey, he’s waving to us! Huh.”
“I think this all seems suspicious,” said Sola. “I think that we should ignore that ship and sail for Paradise Island.”
“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Where is your sense? We are still close to Biscuit Cove, there is no reason to—”
“Look,” said Miya flatly, fixing a hard eye on Sola. “I’m the captain of this ship and I say we board them. Got that?”
Sola looked at Miya a moment, then nodded.
“Aye aye, Captain,” he said.
“Good. Take us close.”
Within a few minutes they were within boarding distance, Miya waiting in the crow’s nest, grapple at the ready.
“C’mon, Sola! Let’s go!”
“Couldn’t we just—”
“WOO!”
Miya threw the hook up into the rigging of the other ship, tugged to make sure it was secure, then leapt out of the crow’s nest and swung smoothly to the other ship.
“Eyes to the deck! Ye be boarded!” she cried after landing, drawing her sword and pointing it at the lone crewman on deck.
“Thank the stars ye’re here!” he replied, throwing Miya a little bit—she’d expected something more along the lines of “Don’t hurt me, great and beautiful pirate queen!”.
“Huh?” she said.
“We was boarded by pirates a day ago,” the man said. “They took me cargo and food and crippled me rudder!”
Miya glanced over at her ship. Sola was using grappling hooks in a different way, attaching the Swan to this ship (which was called ‘The Bloody Gull’ according to the crude lettering on the outer hull) and pulling them closer together. She turned back to the man, who was skinny and dirty and dressed in rags.
“If they only attacked yesterday, why are you so bedraggled?” she asked.
“Shock! The shock of the attack! Traumatised, I was. And they stole the very clothes off me back! Left me with but rags to wear and no shoes!”
Miya looked down. His feet were, indeed, bare.
“Why are you flying the Jolly Roger?” she asked.
“The what?”
“The Jolly Roger! The black flag that indicates your intention to attack!”
The man looked up and squinted.
“That’s a distress flag,” he said.
“It’s not, it’s the blasted Jolly Roger! ‘Attack but give quarter’? Distress flags aren’t black!”
“Aren’t they?”
Miya looked around as Sola climbed on board, then turned back to the lone crewman.
“Where are you from, anyway?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“Where?”
Suddenly the deck was crawling with pirates, emerging from hatches, doorways and barrels.
“FROM THE SEA!”
Miya looked around, turning slowly, sword in hand, glaring at the pirates now surrounding her and Sola. They formed a rough circle around them, their numbers hard to count but a couple of dozen at
least—certainly too many to fight.
“From the sea, girl, from the sea,” said a huge and hugely bearded pirate as he stepped forward. He had on a dirty red jacket and stained black trousers, a large, filthy black hat on his head and an unlit pipe in his hand. The stench he gave off was intense, almost making Miya gag.
“Welcome to me ship,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “I be Captain Badtooth.”
“You dirty scum!” Miya spat. “How dare you pretend to be in distress! That’s preying on people’s good will!”
“Aye, and we be pirates,” said Badtooth. He gestured with his pipe. “Preying on people be what we do.”
“Not that way! That’s just … just rude!”
Captain Badtooth laughed, displaying a mouthful of truly awful teeth. He jabbed his pipe at Miya.
“Pirating ain’t about being polite, girl!”
“It’s not about setting despicably dirty traps, either!”
“And why not? Get ahead however ye can, that’s pirating! Now, ye just stand there, girl, nice and still, and don’t get any ideas regardin’ that sword ye be holding. Same goes to ye, boy,” he said, addressing Sola. “That spear o’ yorn best stay on yer back.”
Miya glared at Badtooth as he stepped to the edge of the deck, casting a gleaming, yellowed eye over the Black Swan.
“Humph,” he grunted. “Yer odd wee toy boat there don’t seem a particularly plump mark. But,” he said, turning to look Miya up and down, “by the cut of yer clothes I’d say ye be some kind of rich, correct?”
“I HAPPEN to be a PRINCESS, actually. AND a pirate. And what you’re doing here is despicable!”
“Oh, despicable, ye say?” Badtooth said conversationally, as he lit his pipe. “Good to know.”
“Put that pipe out this instant!” Miya cried, outraged. “You have cannons on deck, you shouldn’t have ANY fire ANYWHERE near them! You idiot!”
“That so?” said Badtooth, conversationally. He reached over and tapped out his pipe on a cannon. “That better?”
Miya glared at Badtooth as he and his crew laughed.
“How DARE you call yourself a pirate! Pretending to be in trouble then attacking the people that HELP you? That’s disgraceful! At least have the common decency to attack straight on! I mean, sure, the old ‘switch the flags’ trick, ‘sailing under false colours’, that’s fine, that’s practically expected, but this? Ooh, I’d hate to see your code of conduct!”
Captain Badtooth squinted.
“Me what?” he asked.
“Your code of conduct, the contract … you don’t have a code of conduct?” Miya turned to the assembled pirates surrounding her. “Why are you all following this smelly fake? Do any of you know the first thing about being a pirate?”
“And what’d ye know about it, girl?”
“What would I know about it?” Miya asked, rounding on Badtooth once more, her eyes bright with righteous anger. “My father is Tomas Black Boots! His parents are Jonathan and Jean Black, the Pirate King and Queen of the Necessary Ocean! Who was YOUR father? Who was YOUR mother?”
“Dunno,” said Badtooth. “They buggered off afore I were born.”
Miya glared at him.
“You don’t deserve to be captain of a worm-ridden dinghy, let alone a ship,” she spat. “Why your crew haven’t replaced you is beyond me. You’re not a pirate. You’re nothing but a stinking, cowardly, POLTROON! In fact, duel!”
“Duel?” said Badtooth, menacingly.
“DUEL!”
Miya glared at Badtooth with all the contempt she could muster, almost panting with disdain. He eyed her a moment, then grinned a horrible grin and drew his sword, a huge, dirty, vicious-looking cutlass.
“Aye,” he said. “Fair enough. Duel.”
Miya gasped as Badtooth’s sword came at her—for his size he was amazingly fast. She instinctively brought her own sword up to block the slash, but the strength and ferocity of the blow was too great for her and she staggered backwards, blocking another blow as he pressed his advantage. Shouting and cheering, the gathered pirates parted as Miya was forced back.
“Miya,” came the voice of Sola. Miya gritted her teeth as she deflected another blow, the force of it making her sword ring in her hand.
“Don’t help!” she shouted. Badtooth drew his sword back to deliver a powerful overhead blow, his cutlass biting into the deck as Miya danced away.
“Ye’ve got some good feet there,” said Badtooth, as he yanked his sword free. “Shame ye ain’t twice yer size.”
He had a point; the top of Miya’s head wasn’t much higher than Badtooth’s tarnished belt buckle, and she likely weighed less than a quarter what he did.
“Size is NOT strength,” Miya growled. Badtooth grinned a black-toothed grin and lunged forward, Miya crying out defiance as she planted her feet and blocked the blow, catching his sword and pushing against him, the two blades locked together.
“RARRRR!” she growled, putting all her weight into the lock.
It wasn’t enough.
Badtooth laughed in Miya’s face as her sword began to slip, his breath stinking of rotten fish and too much rum.
“Give it up, girl! Ye’re fighting with a REAL pirate here!”
Miya glared up at him, then released her guard and let herself fall to the deck, flat on her back. Badtooth lurched forward at the sudden lack of resistance, Miya rolling to the side as he collapsed stomach-first in the spot she’d just been. She kicked herself to her feet and spun, intending to point her sword at the prone Badtooth’s neck, but he was already standing, massive rusty cutlass in hand.
“How’d you get up so fast?” she demanded. Badtooth spat onto the deck.
“Quicker than I look, lass.”
Miya scowled then leapt forward, her sword flashing. Badtooth grunted as he parried hard—in fact, more than parried, actually struck at Miya’s sword as she swung. The force of the blow made Miya cry out, but she held firm to her sword and recovered, stepping sharply back and recovering her stance.
“Nice grip,” Badtooth grunted, before attacking with a powerful slash that Miya just barely dodged, bending backwards as the cutlass whistled through the air just a few inches away from her nose. She straightened and slashed out with her own sword, catching Badtooth on the edge of his hand as he twisted to the side, but this left her unbalanced—before she could recover, Badtooth’s fist slammed against Miya’s shoulder, sending her stumbling, and he followed this with a boot to the side of her face that sent her sprawling across the deck. There was a solid impact as Miya’s head bashed against the wooden mast, then she lay still.
“Miya!”
Sola stepped forward, but Badtooth pointed his cutlass at him.
“Stay where ye’re standin’, boy, or me lads’ll have yer guts for garters.”
The pirates surrounding Sola raised their weapons and he stopped where he stood, though his eyes were still on Miya.
“Now what are we gonna do with ye, boy?” Badtooth said, eyeing Sola. “Don’t suppose ye fancy yer chances against me?”
“This duel is NOT over.”
Badtooth turned, his eyebrow raising as he watched Miya use her sword to push herself up. She glared at him as she regained her footing and resumed her stance, raising her sword to point at Badtooth straight and true.
Badtooth frowned at her.
“Not had enough, lass?”
Miya spat on the deck, her spittle red—she’d cut her lip when Badtooth had hit her.
“Tougher than I look,” she said. “Old man.”
Badtooth grinned.
“Come at me, then,” he said, raising his cutlass. “If ye think ye’ve the heart.”
Miya sprinted towards Badtooth, sword held out, head down, dark eyes focused. He swung as she neared but she ducked and drove her sword up, only to find it suddenly blocked. Miya gasped as she realised Badtooth had grabbed the blade with his bare hand, blood flowing around his grip. She twisted around as he chopped at her with his cutlass, then yelped as he threw her aside. She stumbled into a couple of pirates, who caught her and pushed her back towards Badtooth.
“Having trouble?” he asked, dripping blood onto the deck from his injured hand. Miya flicked her sword to clean it of his blood, then resumed her fighting stance.
“Come at me,” she said. “If you have the heart.”
Badtooth growled and advanced on Miya, cutlass at the ready.
“You’re losing blood,” said Miya, slashing at Badtooth’s sword hand, forcing him to block. “Sure you can keep going?”
“This?” Badtooth held up his wounded hand. “More strength than weakness.”
To demonstrate he flung his bloody hand out, splattering Miya’s face. As she recoiled he lunged forward, slashing hard. Miya tried to dodge but she wasn’t quick enough, Badtooth’s cutlass opening a gash in her right shoulder.
“AH!” Miya cried out, icy pain shooting through her as she staggered back.
“Sharper than she looks, ain’t she? Ready to yield, lass?”
Miya stood clutching at her wound, breathing hard, pain showing clear on her face.
“Ye have the look of a cove that’s never been cut,” said Badtooth. “Hurtin’?”
Miya gulped down a breath, then straightened and wiped her hand on her shirt, leaving a long bloody streak.
“My turn,” she growled, throwing her sword from right hand to left as she leapt towards Badtooth, spinning and striking as hard as she could.
“Have to do better than that, lass,” Badtooth laughed, as Miya missed, stumbled, and overbalanced. She spun and launched herself at him again, slashing at his legs, but he stepped aside and punched Miya hard on her wounded shoulder, forcing another cry of pain out of her as she staggered away. She whipped her head around to see Badtooth coming at her again and brought her sword awkwardly up to block his savage overhead strike, the force of the blow making her stagger back as their swords locked. Miya gritted her teeth together, grunting as she pushed back against Badtooth’s sword with all her strength, her shoulder burning with pain.
“GAH!” Miya cried out as Badtooth forced her to her knees.
“Yield, lass,” he hissed, his face red behind his beard. “There ain’t no shame in givin’ up if’n ye know ye’re beaten.”
“I do NOT give up,” Miya growled, pushing back as hard as she
could—then her eyes widened as she saw movement behind Badtooth.
“Stop!” she yelled.
Sola had stepped forward, his hand on his spear, ready to jump in to help. He stopped at Miya’s yell as Badtooth’s crew raised their weapons.
“Miya—”
“THERE! ARE! RULES!” Miya yelled, summoning all the strength in her small body and pushing Badtooth back, just enough to break the lock and roll to the side.
“Aye!” Badtooth shouted, as Miya regained her footing. “Unready those weapons! This be a duel between captains!”
Miya was breathing hard now, tired and in pain, warm, sticky blood seeping down her arm, her white shirt stained crimson. Sweat glistened on her face, her bandanna damp with it. Badtooth didn’t seem to be in much better shape—although he didn’t show any signs of being in pain he was breathing hard, his face was red, and his movements had slowed considerably.
“I see it,” whispered Miya. She took a good gulp of air, and blinked the sweat from her eyes. “I see it.”
She launched another attack, not as fierce as before, testing Badtooth’s defences. His parry was strong, but not as arm-jarringly overwhelming as those previous. Miya pressed the attack, striking again and again, Badtooth parrying each blow easily, the ringing of their swords loud and regular. Miya tried a feint, but Badtooth saw it coming and countered, bringing his sword down hard in an overhead strike that Miya just barely deflected. She leapt to the side as Badtooth’s cutlass bit deep into the deck, ripping a gouge of wood out as he tugged it free with a growl.
“Not used to fightin’ someone so bouncy,” he muttered, turning to face Miya where she now stood—on top of a crate, piles of rope stacked sloppily around her. She watched Badtooth carefully as he stepped towards her.
“Tryin’ to make up for yer lack o’ height?” he asked, grinning. Miya said nothing. Badtooth lunged, the same move he’d used to cut Miya’s shoulder, but she was ready for it this time. With a smooth, graceful motion, she hooked her foot around a nearby rope and leapt down from the crate, tightening the rope between Badtooth’s legs and tripping him—Miya slipped her foot out of the rope and spun to plant her foot firmly on Badtooth’s rear as he stumbled forward, sending him crashing to the deck, his cutlass clattering away.
“Yield,” said Miya, standing on his wrist, her sword pointing at his neck. “Lest you’d like—wah!”
Badtooth had pushed up with a mighty roar, sending Miya tumbling. As she struggled to her feet Badtooth scrambled for his cutlass, grabbing it and turning to face Miya as she regained her footing.
Both combatants glared at each other a moment, then they charged, Badtooth roaring, Miya growling, their swords meeting with a hard clash, Miya’s slim blade ridiculously frail compared to Badtooth’s massive great cutlass.
“Ye’ve not the strength to beat me, girl,” Badtooth growled.
“Ye’ve not the brains,” Miya spat.
They broke off the lock and stepped back, then both swung again, another screeching of steel-on-steel ringing out across the deck, Miya’s sword bending against Badtooth’s dirty cutlass.
“Face it, lass, ye’re done! I’ve duelled tougher scraps of steak than ye!” Badtooth roared.
“It’s a sorry sight to see a man lose to his dinner,” hissed Miya.
They broke off the lock, glared at each other, then once more meshed blades. However, this time the noise that rang out across the deck was not the solid clash of steel-on-steel.
It was the horrible sound of a sword shattering.
Next:
8
The Broken Gift
