Akello loved life on the road.

  Every step was easier than the last. Spring had brought flowers and blossoms to the plains and woods of southern Elderland. In the town of Gellow’s Heath, Akello bought provisions with the gold coins that had belonged to the pirate’s lover. A green woollen cloak, several rations of salt pork and bread, a fire-starting kit, and a small pot to boil water. The gold dazzled the eyes of the merchants.

  He spent his days on the high road. The path was a ribbon of white stone with travellers, merchants and farmers only passing by every once in a while. The journey took him through dazzling meadows, lush woodland and murky swamps. He spent his nights reading the pirate’s letters. Each one was an attempt at romantic poetry, decorated with tales of travel from as far west as Shao Lung, Ililli and the Karpesh cities. Akello made camp a few hundred yards off the road, anxious that someone from home would’ve been following him. He slept on the dirt, looking up at the sky through the trees. The stars shimmering in the sky conjured up images of the treasure Akello hoped awaited him.

  After a week's time, he felt he’d earned a hot supper and a warm bed. At dusk he stopped in a small roadside tavern, The Lucky Pheasant. It was a crooked building of wood and stone, with sounds of laughter and smells of stewing meat staining the atmosphere. Inside, it was tight and cramped, the air full of the stench of sweat and booze. There were round wooden tables, small windows, a dozen small lanterns, and all sorts of different people drinking pints of ale. Akello sat down at the bar and ordered himself dinner. Looking around, he noticed that the male patrons were accompanied by swarms of extravagantly dressed young women. He thought it was odd that they seemed so interested in the rather uninteresting-looking men.

  A group of young women were gathered around a peculiar man on the far side of the bar, all laughing along to whatever he was saying. The man was wiry thin, laid across an old sofa like a lazy cat, with a glass of dark wine sloshing around in his hand. He looked to be in his forties, with olive, weathered skin, a thick and pointed goatee, and dark hair balding in a messy tuft on his head. Oddest of all, he had a rag tied over his eyes, yet it didn’t seem to affect his visibility. He pulled one of the girls closer, whispered in her ear, and stroked a strand of hair out of her face. She looked back at him as if in a daze.

  The barman handed Akello a glass of warm ale—which he didn’t like—and a roast chicken stew with boiled potatoes—which he enjoyed much more. When it came time to pay, Akello, half drunk, unfurled his pouch. The song of the gold coins attracted all who heard it. As Akello placed one on the counter, he was approached by one of the extravagantly dressed young women.

  “You seem awfully young to be here by yourself.” She said in a velvety voice. Akello was instantly stunned by her appearance. He smiled nervously.

  “My name’s Emerald.” She said, “But people call me Emmie. What’s your name?”

  “Akello.” he managed to reply.

  “Are you a soldier?” She asked.

  Akello looked around, wondering how to answer. “I’m just passing through.”

  “A traveller? Exciting!” She exclaimed softly, “I’ve seen all sorts of people come through here, but none of them are as ripe as you.” She ran her fingers along Akello’s cloak, which sent a dizzying chill up his neck.

  He smiled. “Thank you.”

  Emmie had an easygoing charm to her. She wore a lilac dress, adorned in gold and jewels that shined almost as brightly as her eyes. Her face was soft and fair like a dream.

  “Quite the exotic dagger you’ve got there, Akello” she remarked, “Where did you happen to come upon it?” She touched the tip of the hilt. Akello flinched back, which seemed to really surprise her.

  “Is everything okay?” She asked.

  He hesitated, “I’m sorry, I’ve just…never spoken to anyone like you before.”

  “Nor I with anyone like you.” She said with a sweet smile, “All the men here are like dogs. They bark and bite, and they smell like old cheese. You…” She leaned closer and inhaled through her nose, “you smell like fresh grass.”

  Akello realised he was blushing. She had a scent of strong flowers, so intense it almost gave him a headache.

  Emmie stroked his cheek. “What do you say? Why don’t you give me one of those gold coins and I can get us a room together? Would be a shame for a poor young traveller like yourself to spend the night alone.”

  It hadn’t quite dawned on Akello what the girl was suggesting, but he loved the attention. Excited, he unfurled his pouch and clumsily spilled several of his coins onto the floor. The metallic chime echoed across the tavern like a dinner bell. When Akello had retrieved his fallen gold, he realised that everyone had gone completely silent, and all of their eyes were ominously fixed on him .

  Suddenly, a night in The Lucky Pheasant didn’t seem such a good idea.

  He walked until he could no longer see the lights of the tavern, nor hear the sound of its patrons. Far off the beaten track, in the middle of a thick woodland, he thought it suitable to make camp. It was a quiet and dark night. Wind rustled through the leaves, moonlight shone through the trees, and a faint mist had started to gather on the forest floor. Akello made himself a small fire while the nightbirds sang overhead. He wrapped himself tightly in his cloak beside the glow and crackle of the flames. He loved the smell of the burning wood, the feeling of a long day behind him, and the promise of a great one ahead. It was late, but Akello’s mind was alive with possibility. He took out the pirate’s letters for another read before he shut his eyes.

  My love,

  Last night, I dreamt about the first time we met. It was so vivid I could almost taste it. The Banjari breeze, the colours of the sails in the harbour, the smell of the Mombali spices. I was surprised when the Maharat sent an envoy to invite me to stay at his Palace, and it felt so bizarre to be on dry land after such a long time at sea, but it felt too exciting an opportunity to decline. I thought I’d seen wonders in my travels, but the halls of the Pataar Mahal were unlike anything I’d ever witnessed.

  And then I saw you, shining like a jewel among the Maharat’s consorts. Time slowed as our eyes met, and I was instantly charmed, without a word…

  Most of the letters went on like this…

  You have saved me, my love, and I long to repay the debt by loving you in every way I can, for the rest of my days.

  I leave for Naltikka in the morning, and then we’ll take the mountain pass through to Elderland, and hopefully we’ll lose the Sunsworn. I shall leave a note for you along the way, in an abandoned windmill, the first one you see.

  Forever yours,

  Jack

  Akello looked up into the flames as he thought. It was strange the way he worded it—that his love had “saved” him. Saved him from what? Perhaps the answer would lie in the next of the pirate’s letters in the crypts of the Sun Temple, where the pirate had left the next breadcrumb to his treasure. Akello prayed it would still be there.

  A twig snapped in the distance.

  Akello shot up and scanned the darkness around him.

  “Who goes there?” He called out.

  The forest answered with silence, only the sounds of rustling leaves in the night breeze. Akello waited for what felt like an eternity, his hand clutched so tightly to his golden dagger he feared it would snap. The light of the fire made it hard to see, and he started to wonder whether it had just been a passing deer, or a bird.

  And then he saw the shapes moving along the horizon. One at first, then two, then five dark figures creeping towards Akello from every direction. They moved eerily slowly. Akello thought about calling for help, but he knew there was no one around. A sharp shiver moved through his body, making him feel faint and sick.

  Suddenly, the dark figures were upon him, revealing themselves to be five grinning men that Akello recognised from the tavern. Their eyes were all wide open with excitement, and Akello suddenly felt very alone in the dark wood.

  “Evening, traveller.” Said a stocky man with a longsword, “Any room for a couple of honourable soldiers by your campfire?”

  Akello mustered all of his courage to reply. “I’d be happy to point you in the direction of a tavern. It’s just over that way.”

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  “Funny,” the man continued, “we just came from there, but we were short of coin for a room, and we noticed that you were carrying quite a lovely little sum of gold on yourself.”

  “Wondered if you wouldn’t mind sparing a bit of change for some noble soldiers that fight to keep the peace in this part of the Prairie.” added one of the other soldiers, a coarse man carrying a jagged spear.

  “I’m sorry,” said Akello, “but I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you could please do me the kindness of leaving me in peace. It’s late, and I’ve got a long journey tomorrow.”

  “Not even a single coin, boy?” a rat-like soldier insisted, “We’re very hungry.” He was stick thin, armed with two short swords.

  “I believe I saw you tucking into the chicken stew at the tavern, sir.” Akello japed.

  “Enough with the games, you little shit.” the lead soldier demanded, drawing his sword, “Give us your gold and we’ll go.”

  Akello considered obeying the soldier, but ultimately felt sick at the idea. He thought back to Bletcher’s lessons as he glanced at the fire behind him. It was just starting to burn hot enough that he could feel the warmth of it on his skin. He looked back at the stocky man.

  “I’m sorry, noble sirs,” he said, drawing his dagger, “but I’m afraid you’ll have to take it from my corpse.”

  The stocky man laughed, “Silly boy. You’d choose death over charity?”

  “I’d choose death over robbery.”

  The stocky man lunged first, but Akello was prepared. He evaded the attack and threw the man into the flames. Flocks of dark birds flew into the sky at the sound of the soldier’s screams. The spearman came next, thrusting at Akello from a distance. After dodging several attacks, Akello surprised himself by catching the spear and thrusted the blunt end back into its owner. The spearman was stunned and sent backwards, leaving Akello with the spear. In a wild fit of adrenaline, he threw the dagger into the man’s chest, and swung the spear wildly around to ward off whatever came next.

  The stocky man was still screaming in the mud.

  Akello noticed that the thin man with the daggers was not as eager as the others. He hovered behind the others, watching every move, his face half-lit by the flames.

  Carrying the momentum, Akello lunged at the other soldier. After several strikes, he felt the cold steel of a short sword slashing across his back. Akello screamed and hit the ground hard.

  From there, he was pinned and beaten. A punch sent his gaze left, where he saw the spear lying just within reach. Struggling to grab it, a dagger was plunged through his hand and into the dirt. The pain was so blisteringly strong that Akello’s whole arm went numb. He cried out with as much force as his voice would allow.

  “There, there, shhh…” said the thin man, as he slowly knelt down to Akello’s face. His cold eyes were shining in the light of the dying flame. “It’s just a little scratch, you’re gonna be fine.”

  “Just take it!” Cried Akello, “Take it and go, please!”

  The thin man spoke through bared teeth, grinning. “Don’t you worry, we will. But, you see, you’ve killed some of my friends, kid, and I think you’ll find that I’m not a forgiving type.” His tone was eerily calm, as if he were lulling the boy to sleep.

  Akello already felt too weak to scream or plead any more. He felt his hot blood seeping into the dirt below. The other soldiers were gathered above Akello like smiling vultures.

  “So, we’re just gonna take out this here dagger.”

  If Akello thought he’d already experienced the worst pain possible, the retrieval of the bloody dagger from his left hand would prove him wrong. The thin man took his time, and the blade stroked against every bit of muscle and bone in its path. When he retrieved the dagger, the thin man twirled it around in his fingers for a moment, thinking.

  “You think that was bad?” He said, “Let’s see how it feels when it goes into your belly!”

  Akello weakly pleaded as he watched the thin man raise the bloody dagger. Suddenly, an arrow struck him through the neck. The thin man froze in shock, and it looked as if he was about to vomit. Then, after a moment, he coughed a splash of hot blood right onto Akello’s face and fell limp on top of him.

  Two more arrows whistled through the trees, killing the remaining soldiers. Akello weakly grabbed the thin man’s dagger and raised it to defend himself. With blurred vision, he saw a hooded figure approaching. The figure stopped by the stocky man, who was still groaning in pain by the fire. With an arrow to the chest, the figure silenced the charred man. Finally, he walked over and knelt down by Akello. He was wearing a blindfold.

  “Don’t worry, chico,” he said with a thick accent, “you’re going to be fine.”

  When he awoke, the first thing he saw was the blind archer sat by the fire. The sunlight was twinkling through the trees, and Akello squinted before flinching at the echo of his pain. His groan alerted the blind archer, and the man came over.

  “Relax, Chico.” he said, steadying him with a hand on the shoulder, “I’ve sealed your wounds, but you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  Akello looked at his hand. It was tightly bandaged, and he thought he could make out a green moss poking out from underneath.

  The blind man chuckled. “You should be proud of yourself, eh? You managed to get two of them. I can’t decide whether you were brave or stupid, but you’ve definitely got balls. Bad luck with that hit to the back.”

  The image of the thin man’s smiling face suddenly returned to Akello, and a sharp chill ran up his spine. The blind man calmed him. “It’s okay, they’re gone.”

  “Who are you?” Akello asked, “Why did you help me?”

  “My name is Alfonso Ramon,” he said with a grin, “and I helped you because you needed it.”

  Akello suddenly noticed something gold and shiny hanging from the neck of the blind man. A necklace with a golden circle pendant.

  Akello’s eyes widened. “You’re Sunsworn?”

  “I was, once,” said Alfonso, standing up and going back to his side of the fire, “but not any more.”

  He smiled as he sat back down, and reached out to stir a sizzling bowl of stew over the flames. He made a portion for Akello, who remarked that the blind man hadn’t spilled a drop. With every spoonful, Akello felt like his life essence was refilling. The stew was flavoured with exotic spices and herbs that he’d never tasted before, with bits of pork, pepper and broccoli that dissolved in Akello’s mouth. When his bowl was empty, Akello looked up and noticed Alfonso’s rugged bow, laid against the tree.

  “You’re quite the archer, sir.” He remarked.

  “Well, I’ve had a lot of practice.” Alfonso replied.

  “How do you shoot without your…” Akello gestured at his eyes.

  “Muscle memory.” Alfonso shrugged. He stoked the fire, and sparks flew up from the flames. They sat in silence for a moment, with the morning birdsong flying through the trees. Akello took a closer look at the archer and his belongings. He wore an old leather waistcoat, battered trousers and muddy boots. There was a nonchalance to the man. He slouched back against his log and took out a wooden pipe from his pocket. Inside, Akello could make out a stringy tuft of tobacco, and a strange, silver, glittery substance that sparked when Alfonso lit it.

  “So,” he said through a cloud of smoke, “where did you find those letters?”

  Akello’s heart sank, and his cheeks went red. “You’ve looked through my…”

  “I did, I’m sorry,” said Alfonso with a touch of shame, “curiosity got the better of me. I was wondering why someone like you would be alone in the woods. I thought you might’ve been some sort of criminal at first, maybe you’d stolen that golden dagger. But then I read those letters.”

  “You can read?”

  “In a way, yes. Don’t worry, chico, I’m not going to steal them from you. I could’ve taken them and left, but here I am still.”

  Akello relaxed slightly.

  “Where did you find these letters?” Alfonso asked.

  “In a cave, beside a skeleton.”

  Alfonso sighed. “Then I suppose we know the fate of Dayani Fairway.”

  “Dayani Fairway?” Akello echoed.

  “The wife of Jack Fairway.” Said Alfonso, obviously, “Captain of The Waverider. He was an admiral for the Suncaller who went rogue and became a pirate. He pillaged his way through the simmering sea before running away with the wife of a Banjari Maharat.”

  Akello frowned slightly.

  “It’s what the Banjari call their lords.” Alfonso explained, “And this guy loved his wives. He had a hundred of them, and when Fairway met the Maharat’s favourite, Dayani, they fell completely in love and ran away together. It would seem that they got separated along the way.”

  “What happened to Fairway?” Asked Akello.

  “No one knows.” Alfonso replied, “He set sail into the shallow sea, with the treasure of a hundred kings, never to be seen again. There’s been no trace of him for a hundred years, until you found those letters.”

  The words echoed across Akello’s mind: the treasure of a hundred kings.

  “I will help you find Jack Fairway’s treasure.” Said Alfonso cooly through a cloud of his pipe smoke.

  Akello frowned, “Why not take the clue for yourself?”

  Alfonso smiled knowingly, “The Giver has decided that you would be the one to find this satchel, and that I would find you. There must be a reason that she chose you.”

  Akello thought for a moment. He’d heard the name before; an old God worshipped before the arrival of the Suncaller.

  Alfonso had another puff of his silvery dust before he spoke again. “We will stay here for another night. Your treatments will allow you to travel by morning, and you should be well-healed by the time we reach Port Albert. I will guide you, and I could even help with your sword training if you liked? Though, you seem to be well on your way!”

  Akello smiled to himself, flattered.

  “All I ask is that you leave some of the treasure for me, eh?” joked Alfonso, and the blind archer offered out his hand. “Deal?”

  Akello shook it, “Deal.” Alfonso squeezed Akello’s hand a little too hard, forgetting about the injury.

  “Sorry!” he cried.

  That night, Akello thought once more of the soldiers. The stocky man’s screams and the thin man’s smile ran through his mind. He could remember so clearly the way the light faded from his eyes. Death had always seemed an abstract concept for Akello. He’d heard stories of elegant knights like Sir Paul Featherly, nobly slaying the evil Kol the Bear King in the Osslandic Invasion twenty years prior. But there was nothing noble about his fight the night before, only desperation.

  His thoughts moved to Jack Fairway and his wife, Dayani. What a person this Fairway must’ve been. From the descriptions in his letters, it seemed like he went wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, and did as he pleased. Sailing the simmering sea, finding treasure and running away with a beautiful woman. What a life it must’ve been. Akello loved the idea of someone wanting to run away with him.

  As he lay in bed, he turned to Alfonso one more time before shutting his eyes. “Alfonso?”

  The blind man sat happily smoking his pipe, “Hmm?”

  “You never did tell me how you can see through that blindfold.” Said Akello.

  Alfonso smiled to himself.

  “I don’t.” He said, “The Giver sees for me.”