Miya Black, Pirate Princess I: Adventure Dawns

For my parents (in whose house I wrote most of this book), for my sister (from whom Miya got a lot of her stompiness), for my wife (for her love, support, and patience), and for my daughter (for every reason)

1
The Pirate Princess Of Clover Island

2
The Most Eventful Fourteenth Birthday Anyone On Clover Island Ever Had

3
New Relations, Old Relations

4
Lost Relations

5
The Miya Black Guide To Widening Your Social Circle And Making Your Name Known

6
Not Just A Princess

7
Foraging, The Pirate Way

8
The Broken Gift

9
Not Just A Pirate

10
Hostile Waters

11
Strange Weather And Strange Luck

12
Perhaps The Past

13
Perhaps The Future

14
That Which Must Be Lost

15
Home Fires Burning

16
The Family Black

17
Wish For Something Better

18
True Pain

19
The Girl Who Tried

20
And So, Adventure

Miya Black was thirteen years old and annoyed. She was thirteen years old because her fourteenth birthday wasn't for another couple of days. She was annoyed because her upcoming birthday celebration was going to include a formal dance.

"Mum, I hate that kind of thing. You know I hate that kind of thing. Don't you pay any attention to my loves and hates at all?"

Miya's mother was Lilith 'Lily' Black, queen of Clover Island and ex-princess. She had long black hair and dark eyes, and was often remembered by people as being tall, although in fact she was of slightly below-average height.

"Come on, Miya," she said. "You like dancing. Everyone likes dancing! Who doesn't like dancing? Name me one person that doesn't like dancing."

"Peggles, down at the docks," Miya's father put in. Her father was Tomas 'Boots' Black, king of Clover Island and ex-pirate. He had short, wavy brown hair and deep hazel eyes, and a kind of relaxed air about him that extended from the way he sat to the way he smiled. "He's got two wooden legs, I'm sure he wouldn't enjoy dancing."

"Now that's where you're wrong," said Lily. "I have it on reliable authority that Peggles LOVES a good dance, so long as he's got something to hold onto."

Miya stomped over to the window. She was good at stomping.

"Huh," she huffed. She was good at huffing, too. Other things Miya was good at included swordsmanship, curtsying (even while wearing trousers), swimming, sailing and riding. One thing she wasn't good at, however, was accepting defeat. She glared out the window as she tried to think of another angle of attack—the sun was setting and the island almost glowed in the dusk light, the vibrant green of the distant jungle particularly vivid. In the sky a flock of seagulls squawked and flapped, noisy and joyfully free. Miya scowled at them. (Scowling was something she was
very
good at.)

"Anyway," she said, turning to direct the scowl at her mother, "it's not the dance part that bothers me, actually. It's the formal part."

"What's so bad about a little formality? Formality makes the world go round, you know," said Lily, frowning a little as she tried to sort out a ball of tangled wool. "Hold this end, could you please?"

Miya stomped over and took the bit of wool her mother was holding out. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't," she muttered as her mother tugged at the wool. "But ... I mean ... it'll be all dresses and suits and other kinds of uncomfortable clothes, right? I hate that stuff! It's like that
ball
on Embassy Island last autumn, that was
awful
."

"She does have a point, Lily," said Tomas, looking up from the book he was reading. "It was pretty awful."

"Oh, it wasn't that ... all right, I have to admit it, that ball was awful," said Lily. "But this will be different."

"There won't be any Highland diplomats there for one," said Tomas, in a low voice.

"It'll just be us and people from the island," said Lily. "All your favourite people! Uncle Lars will be there, and your friend Penny, I'm sure she'd enjoy it—"

"She might if you let horses attend. Which would probably make it more enjoyable for everyone, actually. You should consider doing that," said Miya. "The Miya Black 'Bring A Horse!' Birthday Dance. Sounds fun to me."

Tomas raised his book to cover his smile, while Lily frowned to cover hers. "I don't think so," she said, tugging hard on the wool. "But stop fooling around for a moment, Miya."

"Who's fooling? Bring a horse to a dance, I'm completely serious, that sounds like it'd make the whole event quite tolerable."

"Regardless of what you think, a formal dance is not the place to bring any kind of animal," said Lily. "It's a place to, oh, you know, eat tiny food and drink tiny drinks, and mix and talk and laugh, like this: ahohoha!"

"Ahohoha!" laughed Tomas.

"Ahohoha!" laughed Miya, unable to resist. "Stop it! Stop making me laugh in a fun way!"

"You see? You'll enjoy it."

"I might not. I might decide NOT to enjoy it," said Miya. "And then there's nothing that could force me to. Not even horses."

"In any case it's already being organised, and it'll go ahead whether it has your approval or not. Being a princess is sometimes about doing something you don't want to, Miya," said Lily.

"But it's my birthday! It should be just about me and what I want to do!"

"Even on your birthday, this fact applies. In any case, you're having your ridiculous competition which I must once again state my objection to—"

"It's not ridiculous! It's a sword fighting competition! A duelling contest! There's absolutely nothing ridiculous about swords!"

"Except maybe that time Uncle Lars got his sword stuck in the ground and his sleeve stuck on the hilt and then tripped over a rock and ended up shirtless," said Tomas.

"Yeah, actually that WAS pretty ridiculous," said Miya, laughing. "How'd he even manage to do that?"

"I still think it was on purpose. Just showing off in an odd way," said Tomas. "Lars has a strange sense of humour sometimes."

Lily tugged on the wool one final time and gave a triumphant "Hurrah!".

"Hurrah!" echoed Miya, releasing the end of wool she'd been holding as her mother finished winding it into a tight ball.

"Well, now that's sorted out I think it's time for bed," said Lily.

"What? It's still light outside!"

"You know that's only because we're in the middle of summer," said Tomas, checking his pocket watch. "It's well past ten. And you have swordsmanship lessons in the morning, you'll want to be well rested for that."

"Hm," said Miya. She looked out the window for a few moments, glanced up as her father joined her.

"Another gorgeous sunset," he said, gazing out. "They never get boring, you know. Other things do, you wouldn't believe how boring shaving gets, but sunsets? You could see a thousand of them, ten thousand, and still look forward to the next."

"It is nice," Miya admitted.

"Island sunsets really are the best," said Lily, joining the other two. "They just have this magic."

"Not that I'd know what a sunset NOT on an island looks like," said Miya.

"They're not as good," said her mother. "Trust me."

They were silent then, all three of them gazing out the window together.

"Those seagulls are bloody noisy, though," Tomas said, breaking the moment.

"Language," said Miya and her mother together.

"Still," he continued, "there are some things in this world that you just can't change."

"Very true," said Lilith.

"Huh," said Miya. "I don't know about THAT. In any case, I'm going to bed—honestly, I don't know how you two can stay up so late."

*

Miya Black stood as tall as she could (around four foot nine), sword in hand, her feet planted firmly on the ground. She wore a black and green bandanna tied over her short black hair, and her dark eyes were alert and shining. Her clothes were fine but simple; a clean white shirt, blue trousers, comfortable brown leather boots. She stood at the ready as her teacher paced in front of her.

"Grip, grip, grip, grip, grip," her teacher was saying. "Once more? Grip. And perhaps just one more time, in case you've forgotten already: grip. Grip is the most important factor in swordsmanship."

As her teacher spoke Miya silently mouthed along; this was a speech she'd heard many times before.

"You cannot fight without a sword," her teacher was continuing, "and if you lose your grip on your sword then you will not HAVE a sword. Correct? Thus, grip. How is your grip, Princess?"

"Strong."

"Strong enough?"

"Stronger than strong enough," said Miya. She didn't move as her teacher struck the side of her blade with his bare hand, the strength of the blow vibrating through her arm. She frowned in concentration as he struck again, this time with his sword, the strength of this blow making her teeth ring. The third blow didn't connect; she pulled her sword out of the way first.

"Hey!" Miya cried out, as the rock her teacher had thrown thudded to the ground beside her. "What was that?"

"A rock, they're quite common, I'd think even a princess would have encountered one before," said her teacher, a tall, wiry man with a weathered face and short blonde hair.

"Lars, what if you dented my sword?"

"Then our next lesson would be 'how to remove dents from your sword', what's the problem? Were you afraid you would lose your grip, as you always do?"

"I didn't lose my grip this time," said Miya. "Because I didn't let the blow land. Right? I mean, if I don't let my enemy hit my sword then I'm not going to lose my grip, don't you agree?"

"I do not. Perhaps the best explanation is demonstration."

Lars moved, and his sword flashed before Miya's eyes. She looked carefully down, to where he held the edge a few inches from her neck.

"Maybe a time when you would have preferred the enemy to, perhaps, hit your sword? Rather than your neck, I mean."

Miya smiled. Lars looked carefully down, to where Miya held her sword, the tip a few inches from his heart. He grinned and quickly pushed her sword away with his own.

"You are quick, I admit that. But you will never be able to avoid or counter every blow in this way. And you are forgetting one important fact; battle is not only about avoiding attacks, it is also about landing your own! Grip is most important when you are on the offensive!"

Lars suddenly spun and slashed at the much-abused log that was their usual 'target'. The blade bit into the log with great force but he barely showed the impact, reversing his spin to strike the other side of the log before leaping back and saluting his opponent.

"Now, if I had not the grip, I would have lost my sword with the first blow," said Lars, sheathing his sword. "If you do not have the grip, you cannot fight with even a tenth of your strength. Your grip is important, Miya, very important. For homework I want you to squeeze rocks."

"Still?"

"Still. You have the special squeezing rocks I gave you?"

"Yes," said Miya. She sighed. "It's just so boring."

"We do the boring training and such so that when we encounter the exciting battles and such we do not end up dead and such. You understand this."

"I suppose so, but—"

"But nothing. Basics, basics, basics. Foundation! Without a good foundation any building, any skill will collapse. Grip is the foundation of swordsmanship. Your hands must be strong, your wrists must be strong, and then naturally your arms will be strong, your shoulders, your chest, your heart, all of that will follow your hands. So, squeeze your rocks. Squeeze them hard!"

"Okay, I will," said Miya. "Is that the end of today's lesson?"

"What, you want more? We have trained since the morning, the sun is robbing us of our shade—aren't you a little tired?"

"Well ... more than a little, but—"

"But then give your body some chance to rest. While you rest your body learns, didn't you know?"

"You tell me that almost every time we have a lesson, so, yes, I did know," said Miya. "But I need to train more to catch up, we missed like three weeks when you went away last month."

"You trained with your father still, I believe?"

"Yeah, but he's too relaxed about everything."

Lars laughed. "Not everyone can be a great teacher, I suppose, especially when the student is your princess daughter."

"I guess not," said Miya. "Well ... see you tomorrow, I suppose."