Akello wasn’t expecting a fight when he left the market.

  He was walking on the dirt road back home from the small town of Morrowton. It was a pleasant day, with spring flowers and green grass glimmering in the sunlight. Old trees and rolling hills stretched far into the countryside.

  His breath quickened as he saw the knights that were waiting for him, perched against a fence just outside of town. There were three of them, all dressed in the brown and yellow stripes of Lord Morrowbray.

  “Afternoon, Kel, what did you get from market?” Bletcher called out. He was the leader, stocky and athletic, with a large nose and mud-coloured hair . Akello kept walking, hoping the assault would remain verbal, as it most often did, but Bletcher stepped out and blocked his path.

  Akello sighed. He was a young man of eighteen, tall and thin, with dark skin and eyes like pools of chocolate hidden by his messy hair. He wore clothes that were too big and a leather bag slung over his shoulder. Akello clutched it nervously as Bletcher continued to grin at him, gripping the hilt of his longsword.

  “I just want to go home, Bletcher.” Said Akello, looking down.

  “I’ll bet you do.” Bletcher replied. “Don’t you worry, we just wanted a little catch up. Archie here says you took the exam yesterday. Didn’t take you for an Aspirant.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Said Akello, lying. He had taken the test, as did many other young men and women in the Six Provinces, in the hope of one day becoming a Knight of the Sunsworn.

  “No? He says he saw you at the Oak Hall yesterday with all the other hopefuls. You aren’t calling Archie a liar are you, Kelly?”

  Akello noticed Archie, blonde and covered in spots, showing his yellow teeth as he spoke, “Yeah, ‘cos I’d be real offended if you was, Kel.”

  Akello slowly shook his head.

  “Wow, seems you’re a hell of a lot more ambitious than we thought you were!” Bletcher remarked. “Though, we heard it didn’t go so well for you, did it…”

  The knights laughed in a way Akello had heard so many times before.

  “You should’ve come to us for some advice, Kelly,” Said Archie. “Could’ve helped ya!”

  “Yeah or, what, you think you’re better than us?” Said Bletcher.

  Akello felt his heart racing, but he did all he could to remain calm. He just wanted to go home.

  “I’m really not looking for trouble.” He said.

  “Neither are we!” Blurted Bletcher, “We just wanted to give you some constructive criticism in case you wanted to try again next year. Don’t we, boys?”

  The knights nodded with yellow grins. Bletcher drew his longsword. Sunlight glinted off the blade and into Akello’s eyes.

  “We might not be Sunsworn ourselves,” said Bletcher, “but I’m sure we could give you a few pointers.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Akello tried to pass the knight, but Bletcher halted him with the tip of his sword.

  “Not so fast, Kelly.” He tutted, “I wanna see what you’ve got.”

  “I don’t have a weapon.”

  Bletcher gestured, and another knight tossed over a rusted short sword. Akello was surprised it didn’t shatter when it hit the dirt.

  “I really don’t want to—“

  “Pick. Up. The. Sword. Boy.” Bletcher said in a cold tone. His smile had vanished.

  Akello looked for help, but there was no one else around. Morrowton seemed too far in the distance behind him, and three of the knights sworn to protect its people were stood armed in front of him. Worst of all, he knew his own house was at least an hour’s walk ahead of him.

  Akello bent down to pick up the rusted blade, when he felt Bletcher’s muddy boot hit his shoulder. He fall back onto the ground into a particularly deep puddle. The thud was painful, but not as much as the sting of laughter that followed.

  “Lesson number one, Kelly: never take your eyes off your opponent.” Said Bletcher, playfully swinging around his sword. It took a few moments to regain his equilibrium, but Akello quickly snatched the rusty blade and took a fighting stance. The knights faked being impressed as the boy lurched at the knight.

  Bletcher’s parry was almost effortless. He took a step left, leaving Akello to trip over his foot and fall flat on his face. As his head rose, he coughed out mud.

  “Lesson two: use your opponent’s weight against him.” Said Bletcher, “Ninety percent of sword fighting is footwork, Kelly, I hope you’re taking notes!”

  Akello steadied his breath and regained his footing. His thoughts went back to afternoons he would spend watching his older brother in the backyard, dancing with a blade as if it were a feather. The memories were distant and faded, but he tried to at least channel some of his composure.

  “Ooh, now he means business, Bletch!” Archie joked from the side.

  “Yeah, looks like I’m really in for it now!” said Bletcher, “Come on, Kelly, fight me like you mean it.”

  This time, Akello feigned a strike, and managed to engage the knight in a bit of sword play. The blades chimed like music when they clashed, and for a moment, Bletcher seemed almost impressed. The next moment, he seemed afraid. Akello had grown accustomed to the unbalanced, rusty sword, and was reading the pattern of Bletcher’s attacks, and suddenly, he managed to hit him, nicking him on the arm.

  Bletcher frowned and fought back harder, but Akello had fallen into his stride, now on the offensive. Before long it looked like he was about to win. He found a gap in Bletcher’s defence, and raised his sword to strike, when he felt another boot hit him in strongly the back.

  They laughed at him while he was on the ground, and Akello had grown tired of tasting mud on his lips. He clenched his fist in the wet dirt.

  The knights laughed again. “Not bad, Kelly, not bad.” Said Bletcher, regaining his breath. He held his blade over the boy. “But I can see why you failed yesterday. You’ve got some moves, sure, but you lack the fundamental essence of a swordsman—the ability to see through an opponent, so you’re just kind of sloshing around like a drunk chicken, you know? It’s honourable that you want to fight for the Suncaller, sure, but come on, you really thought you were ready?”

  His tone had gone almost pitiful. “If you want the truth, Kelly, I think you’re just embarrassing yourself.”

  Bletcher turned to laugh with the other knights, and Akello didn’t know whether to scream or cry. When Beltcher turned back, he threw the handful of mud in his hand at Bletcher’s face. The knight cried out in disgust, and Akello took his chance and ran into the trees.

  Thoughts of fear, shame and anger flew past him as he ran. It wasn’t the first time they had antagonised him, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. Even though he’d spent his whole life in the area, Akello had always felt like an outsider. He’d never been particularly smart or strong or talented, and he felt like everyone would frequently remind him of that fact. More than the laughter and japery, it was the look that hurt most. A look so sharp, of equal parts mockery and disgust, and he never found himself getting accustomed to it.

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  For his whole life, Akello just wanted to know what it felt like to be admired—for someone to see him as more than a farmer’s son. Becoming a Sunsworn Knight seemed like his best chance. The Sunsworn were revered in history as honourable and graceful warriors, famed for their chivalry as much as their ability. Sworn to protect the Suncaller and his people, patrolling the provinces, in white and gold armour, helping those who needed it.

  But the Sunsworn who’d arrived to test the Aspirants wasn’t like that at all. He was sad and old—short of temper and wide of gut. He was a blunt man and little amused him. Worst of all for Akello, when he took his place in the arena for his test, the knight looked upon him with that very look he so feared and despised.

  Akello’s lip quivered with pain as he ran through the forest, when suddenly his foot went straight through the flora, and he fell down into a hole.

  He clattered against the rocky edges, and somehow hadn’t broken any limbs as he splashed into the shallow pool several feet underground. The water was a stabbing sort of cold, but he managed to clamber out and onto a rocky shore. When his eyes adjusted, he found himself inside a tiny cavern. It was only a few metres high, with patches of grass and mossy flowers dotted around the dark grey rock. There was a ray of evening sunlight shining through the gap from where he had fallen, shimmering against the small pool at the centre of the cavern. Akello wiped his face. At least the water had washed off most of the mud.

  His eyes widened when he remembered his satchel. He looked inside to find several soggy cabbages, and his heart sank as he saw a shattered vial of a fluorescent liquid. It was his mother’s medicine, from the apothecary in town. He wondered whether it had been the fall, the duel, or perhaps the sprint through the woods that had burst the vial. Either way, it was gone, and his parents were not going to be impressed when he got home.

  If he got home.

  Akello looked around for a way out of the cavern, and lurched back in fear of the figure only inches away from him.He splashed back into the small pool of water, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust.

  A weathered skeleton was laying against the wall. It was small and draped in old rags that had long decayed. It must’ve been old, as there were no fragments of skin or hair remaining on the bones.

  Akello slowly moved closer and remarked that the corpse was accompanied by a small, ornate dagger—the hilt adorned in gold trimmings and a red jewel. The scabbard was a kind of mauve-purple. It was unlike any dagger he had seen before, and certainly not the type of thing one would expect to find upon the corpse of a lone traveller. To the other side, lay a bedroll and leather satchel. It looked untouched and surprisingly well-preserved. Akello cautiously opened it and inspected its contents: rolls of silk, a compass, an empty leather flask, a thick roll of parchment, and a small pouch.

  He went for the pouch first, and couldn’t help but smile. It was full of gold. He ran the coins through his fingers, hearing their song as they clashed against each other. They were marked with strange engravings that Akello couldn’t recognise.

  Next, he turned his attention to the roll of parchment. It turned out to be several individual sheets. They were beige in colour, all bearing what appeared to be the same handwriting. Akello took the first letter to examine the document.

  My love,

  It has been far too long since I’ve stared into your loving eyes, heard the song of your laughter, or felt the warmth of your gentle embrace. If you’ve made it this far, please know that I consider your strength and determination to be so impressive that they match even your charm.

  The Sunsworn are still after me. I thought I would lose them in the mountains, but even now I can feel them getting closer. It was cold and treacherous, and the rocks hid all sorts of bandits and wild animals. We lost several of our men on the descent into Elderland. There aren’t many of us now.

  Most of our effort goes into lugging what remains of my treasure. It brings me comfort to look at it when we’re not moving; the gold shimmers like your eyes. What gives me hope is a particular jewel I took from a temple in Illilli. It glows like sunlight, and it’s warm and soothing to the touch. Time flies as I stare into it.

  The rest of the time, I think about the days ahead of us, when it’s just you and me on an island far in the East, watching waves wash up and down the white sands. It’s the only thing that keeps me going forward. You’ve saved me, my love, and I’ll spend the rest of my life a peaceful and changed man. For now, I’ve got to get back to sea.

  There’s a fishing town east of here: Port Albert. I’ll leave my next note for you deep in the crypts of the Sun Temple. You’ll know where to find it.

  Take care, my love, and I look forward to the day I see you smiling back at me.

  Forever yours,

  Jack

  Akello couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A quick scan across the other letters revealed the same: an address to “my love”, signed by “Jack”, a man on the run with a heap of treasure. Akello looked down at the skeleton, and a wave of sadness started to wash over him when he realised the lover had never reached her Jack. She had probably fallen, like he had, and hadn’t managed to find her way out. A break on her right ankle suggested that maybe she’d taken the fall harder than him.

  Akello turned and looked desperately for some kind of exit. There were no visible paths around, just arched rock pointing up at the gap in the ceiling. It was too high to reach the ledge, but there were several roots and grasses dangling from the gap, but nothing strong-enough to carry Akello’s weight out of the gap. Yet he decided up was his only option.

  Akello stood up with determination. He took the poor traveller’s belongings, slinging them into his satchel. Wading into the pool, the light blinded him at first, but several shapes of flora and vegetation began to form, and then there was something more solid: a hard root pointing out of the dirt. He felt the strap of the satchel between his fingers, and suddenly had an idea. He threw it in the air, trying to hitch it on the root. After many attempts, he finally hooked the strap on the root. He tested his weight, then using all of his strength, pulled himself out of the cavern.

  It was night by the time Akello got back home. His clothes were soggy and his joints were sore. His family home was a modest farmhouse at the edge of the woods. The fields stretched flat out into the distance, and there were the familiar sounds and smells of livestock from the barn to his right. It was a clear night and the moon was bright in the sky above.

  Akello couldn’t stop thinking about the letters. He wondered why someone who would profess so much love written down would not be travelling together. What had he done to have the Sunsworn after him, and what treasures did he speak of? Akello’s excitement turned to dread as he spotted his father waiting for him in the doorway.

  “You’re late.” His father, Dembe, uttered in a stern tone.

  Akello looked down. “Sorry, pa. I got caught up on the way.”

  This excuse didn’t satiate his father’s expression. Dembe was a tall and imposing man in his late forties. His skin was dark, and his eyes were darker. “Your mother’s been waiting all day, Akello.”

  “I was attacked!” cried Akello. “Lord Morrowbray’s knights, they ambushed me on my way home!”

  “And they held you up for the whole afternoon?”

  “I—I had to run and hide from them.”

  Dembe leant slightly back and raised his eyebrows. “So my son runs and hides when he faces trouble?”

  Akello was at a loss for words.

  “Go to your mother, now.” Said Dembe, and Akello went in with his head low.

  His mother, Sade, was sat alone by the fire when he entered. She had been a proud and beautiful woman in her youth, but she had worsened in the last decade since the death of her oldest son. Now, her only solace was at the bottom of a bottle, or in this case, at the bottom of a glass vial, which Akello reached into his satchel to get.

  And then he remembered.

  Sade looked upon Akello with emptiness in her eyes.

  Dembe entered the room at last. “Give your mother her tonic, Akello.”

  Akello’s throat went dry. “Pa, I…”

  His explanation was not met with punishment or shouting, his parents looked upon him with that same look he hated. It was as if they’d expected him to fail, like he couldn’t even do something so simple as to go and pick up a tonic from the alchemist. He went to bed with that look plaguing his mind. He lay awake in his small bed, dreading the day ahead of him. Another trip into the town, another altercation with the knights, and another disappointed look from his mother and father.

  But what if another journey lay ahead.

  He placed the corpse’s leather bag onto his lap. The letters mapped a trail all the way from Banjar to Elderland, and suggested where Jack was headed next. It would be days to reach Port Albert, he knew, but every step he took would be a step closer to something better. He thought about the adventure, the fortune, and the glory that surely awaited him. Maybe someone would admire him if he managed to find the lost treasure of what seemed to be a pirate—so famous and feared that the Sunsworn Knights were on his tail.

  He studied the pirate woman’s ornate dagger, running his hands over its golden hilt. Surely this was but a taste of the treasure that awaited him, and he realised he was the only one with the clues to find it. Without a sound, he stood up, put on his clothes, filled his bag, and carefully opened his window.

  With the moon high in the sky, Akello took his first steps in the direction of the pirate’s lost treasure, unaware of what it would cost him to reach it.