Attiliana—the Amazon Princess, as she became known—was the daughter of Attila the Hun. She was born of a love affair he had with a Chinese princess, Sui Tang, during one of his skirmishes into China’s northern territory. Her Chinese given name was Shanhua, meaning “wild mountain flower.” It was only later, after being united with her father and earning the respect of his army through warfare, that she was given the name Attiliana.

Attila only discovered her birth four years later, when Sui Tang introduced them during a second raid in that region. Discovered he was a father to this lovely child, he tried to convince Sui Tang to return with him to his home at Pannonia in the Carpathian Basin. She declined. However, six years later, during his third raiding trip, he found the girl being cared for in a Shaolin Temple.

Her mother, fatally wounded in a clan skirmish, had brought her to the monastery. She begged the monk who answered the door to look after her and only hand her over to a family member. Through inquiries, Attila discovered her whereabouts. The monks handed her over to him, for she recognized him as her father.

She was now ten years old, spirited like her mother and matured by life in the monastery. It had been a minimalistic, well-organized environment where daily training built her strength, endurance, mental composure, and a love for study. She collected her sparse items, thanked the monks for their protection, and marched out with Attila’s detail of soldiers to start a new chapter.

As they marched through the town, nobody dared interfere. This was partly out of respect for Attila, but mostly out of fear. His justice was swift, permanent, and very rarely coupled with mercy.

Back at his temporary camp, he showed her to quarters prepared right next to his own. Her tent sat beside the meeting area where strategy was discussed, and raiding parties were assembled. These duties usually followed a grim pattern: surround, attack, and pillage. If resistance was minimal, lives were spared; if it was fierce, the standard outcome was slaughter, the taking of slaves, and the burning of the village.

After freshening up and donning a beautiful outfit gifted by her father, Shanhua ate with Attila and his four generals. She was then allowed to attend the planning session. She was struck with awe by the intensity of the discussions, though she did not miss the fact that final approval rested solely with Attila.

“Thank you all for your inputs,” Attila announced, closing the session.

As scheduled, two generals and two hundred men were discharged to carry out the raid. The rest of the warriors remained to safeguard the encampment. The marauding parties rode out that morning, their horses fed and watered, and the men armed with bows, short swords, and long lances. In their attack, they applied a pincer movement learned from the Roman General Aurelius—cavalry attacking from both flanks simultaneously to throw the enemy into disarray.

Late the following afternoon, hearing the tumultuous noise of the returning troops, Shanhua stepped outside to join the celebration. Her father stepped up next to her, holding her shoulders.

“Do you fancy yourself a part of this lifestyle,” he asked, “or should I return you to the comforts of the temple?”

“No,” she replied quickly.

Her answer made him a proud father. He saw in her the same thirst for adventure that consumed him.

That evening, after the camp had retired, Attila and Attiliana sat in the large exterior room of his tent for a long-overdue conversation.

“I am truly glad that we had this time together today, even though it was war-related,” Attila began.

“And so am I,” she added. “It was a baptism of fire. I am thankful you considered me—a child, and a female child at that—worthy to attend the proceedings.”

“Well, Shanhua, please tell me a little about yourself and your experiences thus far.”

“Father, before I start my story, I have one request,” she said, her voice hardening. “I want to avenge the death of my dear mother. She gave her life to keep me safe when thugs posing as the Emperor’s men entered our home. They were led by a man named Mo Gwai. His evil face is etched into my brain. I will never know rest until he is sent to the underworld.”

Attila spoke in a quiet, controlled tone. “Rest assured, dear child, we will pursue him to the ends of the earth. We will make their dispatch a warning to anyone who would dare attack my family.”

Satisfied, she shared stories of her childhood—the manicured gardens, the koi ponds, and the geography lessons that had enthralled her. She spoke of the monks who taught her literature, science, and a specific art of self-defence.

“They call it Kung Fu,” she explained.

Attila held up a hand. “I have heard of this style but never seen it. Can you show me?”

She broke into a broad smile. “Yes, but I need an opponent. Someone schooled in the boxing and wrestling techniques you train in.”

“I am not sure any of our womenfolk are equipped for that,” Attila noted. “It is training reserved for males.”

“One of your men will suffice,” she said simply. “Before you tell me it is foolish, set it up. You will be impressed by what I can do without weapons.”

“Enough news for today,” he said, standing. “I will set up the match in the morning. Retire to your quarters; we need sleep.”

The next day, word of the match spread quickly. A soldier beckoned Shanhua to the meeting tent, where she was introduced to Attila’s inner circle.

“I have promised my daughter that we will track down Mo Gwai,” Attila told his generals. “There is a reward of twenty gold pieces for knowledge of his whereabouts, and thirty once he is captured. Secondly…” He hesitated.

Shanhua cut in. “My father is hesitant to ask if any of you are willing to engage in hand-to-hand combat with me.”

A chorus of protests erupted. “No! We are men trained to fight, and you are a girl. You will get hurt!”

“Watch and learn,” she replied.

Eventually, a soldier named Boulder stepped forward. He was smaller than the others but known for his speed. “Don’t worry,” he smirked, “I’ll go easy on you.”

A crowd gathered, forming a crude ring. As the gong sounded, they began to circle. Boulder moved first, hoping to end the fight quickly with a grappling move. He underestimated her. Shanhua dropped low, slipping under his arms. She spun on her left foot, extending her right leg in a sharp kick that connected squarely with his solar plexus.

Boulder dropped to his knees, gasping for air. When he finally rose and took a wild swing, Shanhua stepped into the arc of his fist, blocked with an L-shaped guard, and struck him in the throat with the edge of her hand.

Attila stepped in, stopping the display. “I have seen enough.”

The onlookers saw the girl in a new light. The ease and grace of her movements were not lost on them. She explained that the monks developed this style because they were often seen as easy prey.

“Can you teach old war dogs like us the rudiments of this style?” Attila asked.

“I can,” she replied, “but remember, your army fights on horseback. This skill is for when you have dismounted.”

Over the following months, Shanhua became a fixture of the camp. She learned to ride with perfect balance, eventually standing on the horse’s back or switching to face backward while at a gallop. She became a master archer and a skilled swordsman.

When she felt she was fit for duty, she pleaded to accompany the raiding parties. Attila eventually relented, but with strict conditions: she would only ride when he did, she would perform no solo heroics, and two trusted senior warriors would remain at her side at all times.

She readily agreed. She knew this was her only chance to find the man who had destroyed her first life.