Shen Wei never wanted to be an Emperor, but on the anniversary of the peace deal he discovers that Kunlun might be alive.
Part 1 of the The Leaves Of Autumn Are Memories series
Moonlight gilded the ground in silver, its stunning light gleaming from its home in the inky black of the skies and the sparkle of the stars. A rare moon tonight, the scholars said. Brighter and larger than it had been in centuries. Not since the days of the first Shen Emperor. The legendary night just before the battle that changed the tide of the war, the beginning of a fledgling nation that rose up to protect itself.
Whether a sign of prosperity or a bad omen for the future, the people of all nations still gazed up at its brilliance, caught by its spell.
From between the dry hills not a mile from the town, a hooded figure stood alone. Centered in the shadows, he seemed as much a part of this wild landscape as the sparse trees and the stars above. The moonlight fell so gently onto his long cloak, it reflected the night sky itself, the shining light only deepening the darkness of his hood. The cold air swirled around them but the pendant at his throat was warm with promise.
In a place that forever would remain the beginning of peace, three parties converged. They had traveled for over a day by horse to this lonely area, to these cursed hills of the Hanga lands that had seen too much bloodshed, betrayal and loss. An ominous cloud of despair seemed to hang with the mists over the once lush fields, the silence broken only the crows flying through the trees, unseen by the riders.
Nothing else moved. There was no wind and the mists hid the lands stretching out on either side of the mountain pass. Time seemed to hang here suspended, a sense of unease had settled into the hearts of every member of the group, but Battle Commander Tu Qiuyue had forced the Dixingian warriors forward, aware that their Emperor seemed unaffected.
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They, she had decided would not look weak in front of their Emperor or the Southern Haixing contingent that followed riding behind her and just in front of the Northern group. The others were afraid, calling it a cursed land, full of ghosts and demons. Some took courage in having the Lord Guardian ride with them and she suspected the Southern Haixingren soldiers, were more afraid of Zhao Xin Ci.
On a winding road Shen Wei could follow in his sleep and often did in his dreams, he had led the party of once feuding warriors, deep into territory none of them had ever seen. The mists could not hide the path down the mountain and his mare, bred for war moved easily enough along the rough ground. She had carried him over the hills many times in the last five years, in worse weather than this. Grazed by the shore as he knelt in the cold water and watched as only a horse can, when he summoned the Gates.
Now they were here. In the ancient sacred place that was his greatest hope and the site of his deepest despair.
Zhao Yunlan would have found it laughable if he had told him that one day, Southern Haixing, Northern tribesmen and Dixing's finest soldiers would meet in a field bathed in moonlight. To speak of Kunlun. He would have said that his murder must be the topic, for what else would they discuss about him, if not his death? Southern Haixing had such a large bounty on his head and Shen Wei would never let them take it, while he still breathe.
