See Author's notes at the end

Chapter 1 Awakened from Youth

"The cold wind nips at her sullen face with only a hooded fur shielding hr from the nipping freeze as she watching the horses run wild and free and the warriors train and wrestle below. The sun shines over the green expanse as she closes her eyes and listens to the music of the horses' hooves drum against the ground, accompanied by metal sabres clashing, whizzing arrows and war cries. If there is one thing that she loved, it was escaping her own trainings to take in this orchestra of warriors. She watches this as she stands atop the steppes of green perfectly reflected by her deep emerald eyes, which to her people was considered unusual, but they dared not speak of it due to her family's stature in the clan.

These steppes and hills that seem to envelop the wide horizon were once of her father's dominion. She thought to herself as she shut her eyes in pain. Then, as if he stood aside her with his strong hands on her lithe shoulders, she heard her father's words.

Strength is within you above all, weakness would only lead to your downfall. She felt a salty teardrop roll down her cheek as she looked up into the skies and prayed to the spirits of the rivers and mountains.

Father, I find strength in you. She shuts her eyes in pain and trembles to fight against it as her memories take her back to that night.

Her father, Yesukhei, lead the Yakka tribe, and one day Leksaa will follow his footsteps. There was a feast held between the Yakka elders, its leader and generals to welcome the Tatars inside her father's ger - the only one befitting his status. Music played into the night as dishes were served from the best cattle, horses, camels, yaks, and goat.

Leksaa not being of age yet, was not allowed to partake and so could only stand by the fires where these dishes were prepared, allowing her senses to take in the aroma of Khorkhog , her favorite. Other meat dishes were also served to satiate everyones hunger, accompanied by only the best Kumis. Luckily for the young mischievous child, the night was not as bitter cold as it normally was and she runs free and wild in their camp. Life should always be as such. Wild, free, and void of worries, her lungs were filled with air and her laughter resonated the camp - that was until OOOF! A large boot lands on her abdomen, sending her flying in loss momentum to the ground. She could not tell if it was the snarl of her warrior Anya, or the shooting pain that knocked her wind that kept her down in place. I trust you know well your place to be at this time of night little nightblood, her warrior speaks with vexation at the young one's antics.

"B-but...

She was cut off by Anya, NO BUTS! LEKSAA! YOU MIGHT BE THE PRISA, BUT I AM YOUR WARRIOR! YOU WILL KNOW YOUR PLACE AND RETURN TO YOUR GER THIS INSTANCE! growled the older warrior and her mentor. With the role of her eyes, Leksaa saunters off back into her ger - not before receiving a smack behind the head from Anya.

She hates being so young. She hates all these rules and expectations. She hates being dictated what to do. A smug smile crosses her face. One day, it shall be I who will dictate, little knowing to the ten-year old the burdens which come with that responsibility. Once inside, she takes off her leather boots and tosses them aside. She couldn't care less where they land. She sees the warm oven in the middle and decides to flop herself down next to it for warmth, caring less to loosen the deel she still had wrapped around her body. With both hands, she folded up to cup her head. The warm layers of rug underneath her and the colourful tassels hanging from the ceiling slowly lulls her to sleep. Her eyelids now half-closed only watching the dancing shadows from her hanging lanterns.

She had no clue as to how much time had passed between then and the moment she shot upright from the hideous screams that echoed across the camp through the night. Without thought and not even thinking of slipping on her boots, she grabbed her twin daggers out of instink, gifts from her father, She ran out barefooted. She raced out of her ger.

What she witnessed shocked her rooted. This was her first true account of blood and body parts sprayed and flung in all directions. Prior to this, she had only been trained with arrows for hunting, horseback riding, wrestling, and dagger use. She stood frozen in shock as a Tatar warrior 5 times her size, recognising whose daughter she was, came rushing towards her with a sneer and a growl that could send mountain lions cowering away. Her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets in fear before they squinted shut as a warm thick liquid sprayed across her face, drenching her deel. WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT MINDING YOUR PLACE! GET BACK INTO YOUR GER AT ONCE! Anya's voice snapped her out of shock, the Tatar's blood still dripping from her sword as his head lie in front of Leksaa's feet. Cold eyes staring up at her. GUUSTUS! HRYDER! TAKE THE PRISA BACK TO HER GER AND BE IN FULL ALERT! NO ONE IN, NO ONE OUT! NOW! commands Anya as Leksaa was rushed back to her ger, the shock fades away, but the yells, screams, and clash of metal do not until the last of the treacherous Tatars fall. It was an unexpected ambush, yet also expected at the time when clans would war against each other.

Finally, the mayhem outside quells, but she hears her mother's screeching wails. NOOOOO! YESUKHEIIIII!

Leksaaaaa vowed to never shed a tear after that night, after her father was poisoned to minimise his strength to battle, which she was told of the morning after.

She refused to falter this treachery, she will avenge her father one day. Yes, she will prove her strength and with that thought, the 10-year old clasped, slits her palm. Her nightblood, a symbol of her status, oozed like drops from a goblet of vengeance. /p

The dead cannot fight, but the living shall prevail.

Her strength had already begun to confirm the predictions at her birth. With a stoic expression uncommon for a young child, she murmurs to herself seething, My time shall come. It shall take as long as it shall! She grits her teeth and straightens her stance, shoulders back, still gripping her daggers tightly in her hands. My father shall be avenged. His spirit shall be set free with honour befitting his greatness.

Blood must have blood! she repeats their oath in unison with Guustus and Hraider as she squeezes the ooze from her palm and the ground welcomes it with thirst.

One day, Tatarakru shall bow before me, and me alone, she says this in her head with grinding teeth and clenched fists of a mongol warrior. She speaks her prayers of strength to the Gods of the Khentii Mountains, her place of birth, to grant her father's spirit safe passage until he finds a new vessel.

And thus begins the legend of Hedakhan, the great Khan who united lands and people from the Northern S'hong of the far East to the shores of the Kaaspian.

Author's Notes:

Italicised sentences, phrases, or words are dialogues or thoughts. Some of the character's name spellings and pronunciations have been changed to fall in line with the story line.

Khorkog is a traditional Mongol dish made by cooking pieces of meat inside a container which also contains hot stones and water, and is often also heated from the outside.

Kumis is a fermented dairy product made from mare's milk and remains important to people of Central Asian Steppes of Hungarian-Bulgarian, Turkic and Mongol origin.

A Deel is an item of traditional clothing commonly worn among the Mongols and other nomadic tribes of Central Asia, including various Turkic People. It looks like a large overcoat when not worn. The sides are pulled against the wearers body, the right flap close to the body with the left covering underneath. A large sash and a leather belt, is tied around the waist and the area between the flaps and above the belt creates a large pocket in which Mongolians keep many things, including hidden weapons.