Chapter 1: The Capture

Spring, 1211

The Jin Dynasty, ruled by the Jurchen people, had dominated northern China for a century. To their north, across the Gobi Desert, the Mongol tribes—long fragmented and weak—had found unity under a new leader: Temüjin, who called himself Genghis Khan.

For years, the Jin emperors had kept the Mongol tribes divided, playing one khan against another. They demanded tribute and treated the steppe warriors with contempt. But in 1210, the new Mongol Khan refused to bow. He broke the tributary relationship and began raiding Jin border territories.

The Jin responded with their own raids, hoping to capture high-value hostages and punish the upstart Mongols. Along the contested borderlands, skirmishes erupted with increasing frequency—neither side willing to back down, neither side yet committed to full-scale war.

It was during one of these border raids that everything changed.

Nara’s saber flashed in the afternoon sun as she wheeled her horse in a tight circle. Five Jin warriors surrounded her, their armor glinting, their horses snorting and stamping in the dust. Behind her, smoke rose from what had been her scouting party’s camp. Her companions were dead or scattered. She was alone.

“Surrender, Mongol!” one of the warriors shouted in accented Mongolian. “You cannot win!”

She bared her teeth in what might have been a smile. “Come find out.”

The first warrior charged. Nara met him blade to blade, the clash of steel ringing across the grassland. She twisted in her saddle, bringing her saber around in a vicious arc. The warrior’s sword flew from his grip. Her second strike caught him across the shoulder. He fell, screaming.

Four left.

They circled her more carefully now, respectful of her skill. Nara’s breathing was hard, her shoulder aching from an earlier blow. Blood trickled down her arm where a blade had caught her, but the wound was shallow. She could still fight. She would fight until they killed her or she escaped.

She would not surrender.

One of the warriors feinted left. Nara turned to block—too late, she realized it was a distraction. Another warrior charged from her right. She barely got her blade up in time, the impact jarring her arm. Her horse danced sideways, nearly losing its footing.

“Take her alive!” someone shouted from beyond the circle. “The General wants prisoners!”

Alive. That meant they wouldn’t kill her outright. That was something.

Nara urged her horse forward, trying to break through the line, but they closed ranks. Steel flashed. She parried, struck, parried again. Her arms burned with exhaustion. She’d been fighting since dawn.

Then she heard it—hoofbeats behind her, fast and close.

She started to turn, but something flew through the air. A net, weighted at the edges, spread wide and dropped over her. The ropes tangled around her arms, her saber, her shoulders. She tried to cut free, but the net pulled tight, yanking her sideways.

She hit the ground hard, all the air slamming out of her lungs. Her horse screamed and reared, but the warriors drove it back. Nara struggled against the ropes, but they only tightened. Hands grabbed her, rough and efficient, flipping her onto her stomach. Someone wrenched her arms behind her back. Leather cord bit into her wrists.