North Italy, in 433 AD

The small battlefield was quiet and desolate when I revived. I gave thanks to my stars that the last assailant did not forget to pull his blade out of my body. I was waiting some minutes while my spasm-tensed muscles eased, and the pain calmed down. I struggled to my knees and looked around. I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye and made to snatch my dagger involuntary, when I recognised that it was not in its sheath. The blade remained in the chest of the second attacker to the best of my memory, I thought. But there was no need of any weapon anyway.

Sogar was sitting on the ground, leaning back against the trunk of an old tree, just like he would to take a rest. His eyes snapped open when I leaned over him. There was pain flashing in his gaze, and a small trickle of blood appeared in the corner of his mouth when he opened it, struggling to speak.

"I saw you … you were done in…" Sogar's voice was only a weak moan.

"They missed …," I whispered as my throat parched dry. I recognised death in his eyes.

"The top of that blade turned up on your back. I saw it. It was the last of our attackers who did it. I fed with him his own weapon for that, but I was also injured … and I'm dying now."

"No …." The words stuck in my throat.

"Maybe are you a kind of Goddess? That's why you wanted to get the treasure of a God so much?" He gasped. I was not able to lie to a dying friend … to a dying lover.

"I am not a Goddess, just an Immortal."

"What's the difference?"

If you only knew how much, I thought but didn't voice it. Instead, I closed my lips gently to his. When I unwillingly pulled my mouth away, he had already stopped breathing.

I lit a huge funeral-pyre for him and our three companions. I was not afraid of the attackers. Sogar killed the last of them, although he got a fatal injury as well. The valuables of my comrades and our attackers were committed to the flames as funerary offerings. All the treasure, which was stolen from that ancient temple built of white marble, was cremated as well. The price of that hoard was too high… I paid for it with the life of my companions, my lover and with my own blood. I kept only my own weapons and personal belongings in my possession.

Yes, I was a thief in that period of my lifetime. And I became a lonely outlaw then and there. I got on my way heading to the East. I was drawn towards there by something-unfathomable calling. That call flooded towards me continuously from my dreams, forcing me to leave the civilised areas of Europe.

***

The last snowstorm of winter attacked me when I was in the midst of high mountains. I survived as always but my horse didn’t. I kept on going by foot, more and more exhausted.

Spring found me on luxuriant fields, streaked by small riverbeds. I met the telltale evidence of deserted encampments more frequently. I could even lay my eyes on some horsemen riding at a safe distance. They were wearing caftan and fur-caps; curved blades hung from their sides and powerful bows fixed to their saddles. It was not too difficult to shelter from them, and this fact made me careless. Arriving at a wide, swift flowing river, I decided to have a swim.

I was in the middle of the river when the presence of the Immortal swept over me. I frantically swam towards my weapons, but when I got the shore he was already standing between my belongings and me.

Two mortal warriors stood at his side their bows in readiness, and that fact made me understand that there was no way to escape.

I scrutinised the Immortal. He was youthful looking, tall and athletically built. Peering into his eyes, a cold shiver ran down my spine. His gaze was penetrating, icy, determined, and overbearing, but some eager interest blinked for a mere second that gave me some hope. I staked everything on one chance. I pulled the time-honoured method of the submission from my mine of knowledge. I gathered all of my skills in body-talk and doubled the awe with some lascivious seduction. My costume was more than perfect considering I was wearing nothing save a trinket around my neck.

The blue-eyed Immortal moved close to me and ran his hand along my wet skin. He said that word which I did not understand at that time and which later became my name.

"Réka."

He did not say anything else. The penetrating gaze swept over me and rested on my breasts while he threw his hand around my nape. My heart missed a beat because of his touch. The hand slid up, touching the scar on the back of my head. He stopped for a moment then his hand slid back down and forced me to my knees with his strong grasp.

I knelt on the ground with gasping breath and did not dare look at this Immortal. I heard his steps travel towards my belongings, and it came to my mind that it would be a messy thing to be beheaded by my own sword. He came alongside me slowly, and I closed my eyes tightly. Instead of the clang of metal, I heard some rustling of clothes. Opening my eyes, I saw my clothes lying beside me. I put on my clothes as quickly as I dared to move.

When I finished dressing, I looked at him. It seemed that his attention had turned away completely from me. He was trying the balance of my sword, losing himself in this activity.

It was not completely correct, because when he saw that I was ready, he beckoned to one of his men. I felt a heavy knock on my head then everything went dark…

That was my first encounter with the Immortal, who was mentioned as the "Scourge of God" all over Europe in the years that followed.

He was Attila, the King of Huns.

My later husband.