u/vernastking

My best work which I submitted to a competition.

Favored

“Son of my light, blessed of my hand, truth you will illuminate.”

— after a Baal inscription

 

Book I

The Favored

Speak now of the rage summoned down from the very spirit of the storms and given the form of men naked of the fear of Mars Ultor. Tell of the unsheathed swords which across the sea waged battle that Baal watched with illuminated eyes. Know of how the avenger himself lay bloodied in the hills where even Janus was blind and the songs of the sons of Romulus were dirges and laments. See the pact sealed in the name of a master and demanded of the bloodline of lightning. Drown in the visions as now they appear. Specters accusatory and blinded guide us.

Gaze down from on high and behold Sicilia as lifted mists reveal not the dance of steel, but that of a consecrated soul hiding in the crags. Armies drawn from lands shrouded in clouds spill ruby droplets that in a sea are lost and yet leave tracks starker than any beast of prey. Walls stricken repel the legions wandering from the embrace of Ceres into the jaws of the great leech of the Punic lands. Furrowed ground slowly watered at his hand echoes his name never cast to the ground by the power of Jove who on high to him bent a knee.

Hamilcar, girded to shatter the arms of Rome bound by the curse Plutus drew to himself not the fate of the fallen, but a vow that could not be sated. An altar bathed in wrath called for vengeance and the continuance of farming to cull the souls of those who resided on a river yet to be stained and dyed as surely as a sacrificial font. Side by side the elder and the one upon whom the master favors swore that Hypnos would bring no sleep to their eyes until as the fate of the city of Priam was the fate of the metropolis atop the seven hills. “Swear to me boy, before The Storm Lord, that you shall extract eternal vengeance. Swear or be lost to the abyss heir of mine dishonor.”

Youth not yet witness to torments with none but the love that only youth knows with hand caked in the gore of sacrifice splatted by a single blow speaks no words that his eyes do not announce. A different spirit is borne as the western land comes now to take the light of Carthage tarnished and whose glow was a single instant before buffeting winds came with endless shadow and tore him away.

In the darkness ascendent more than the deepest night a blinding beam raises one who grabs hold of the bolt in Jupiter’s own hand and joins it to his own flesh. On feet not more swift than those of Talos, but surer than Achilles he goes west to summon from all corners the messengers of his covenant with the ancestors of the conqueror of the eastern lands. Unyielding shields fell to his hands as Saguntum ascended in smoke tearing the sky asunder with no tears shed to the east.

There is nought to him, but a vision of the mountains capped in crystal. Juggernauts ascending into ice and frigid knives that as sure as hunger never-ending reap until into the fields of the cornucopia they arrive. Upon the banks of Ticinus flight, flight as the noble eagle fell and dropped into the dust before an onyx wave. Rushing and washing over bronze clad flesh swift slaughter came with Mars trembling on high.

Silence envelops the shouts of Bellona when fools gave chase in haste without knowing that no one so foolish as they confronted them in Trebia’s shadow. Doom sealed in haste empowered steps screeches, but none can hear it. Closer and closer they come now, weapons raised then comes the maw of the monster they thought to judge. Slamming shut with unforgiving violence it digs deeper than bone and sinew spilling the libations of their lord with rapturous delight. War mocked cannot even slink away in honor with might crushed underfoot.

In night flame betrays and draws surer than the bit draws the horse to its doom at the grave of the Trasimine. Shades racing the inferno within descend from the heights and the very power of the earth behind them drives them home true. Into the waters, into the waters, into the waters they go icy hands closing in around them and pulling them to the depths. Shell meant to drive away frigid steel now drives down legions to rest upon the bed of the river forevermore. In their thousands they are no more with few enough carried in shackles and disgrace to declare destruction the name of this day.

Resplendent, they march in their armored legions, both human and divine onto a once silent field they have never had revealed to them neither by the augurs and their omens nor by the fleet of foot sent ahead. Come they did, chasing away the flies of the Punic warlord that whispered in their ears and bronzed the eyes of the godly troops. For days the time was not right to smite the enemy and so they did not come forth to strike out and lash the enemy. Three camps two below and one above tensely buzzing with barely concealed restraint. Lust burns hotly in veins desirous of blood more than anything else in the mortal plane. Silence waits in the wings ready to break and escape if the order is given.

Soon the battle will come knows he who used his barbed whip of wiles to ignite the path to this path. The night before he will call forth the restraints upon his foe that he may cast them into a pit without end he steps out alone. Surrounded by nought, but the edges of his slaughterers he closes his eyes and turns his face upward. “My master to you I call. I have bled in your name and brought forth slaughter on account of your name. My oath binds you my master. The enemy draws with their host near to destroy your name. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then flee and allow the bolt of lightning to set this land ablaze!”

He spread across the land facing the enemy drawing them close his words hanging as surely as the swarming murder that flew up above. Onward came the blinded and the unknowingly blessed while above the winds began to stir. On the ground below the unbeaten began to buckle as cries rang out from the lords of the Tiber. Iron holds them firm, but fury is a relentless slaver whose hand will not be stayed.

One step, two steps, and then three as into the beating heart of the monster they march certainty painting their blades until a single cawing raven’s cry opens up the gates where only the damned may go. Teeth of iron sink in deep as on all sides as a screaming is heard which rends even the hearts of those who had cried in rage. Agony, agony, conflagration licking with the greatest hunger as all are grasped and thrashed about the uncaring field. The stench of butchery flies truer than any arrow saturating every mind and piercing all flesh.

In the heights hammer blows of the winds toss the host of Jove, Mars, Bellona, and Minerva aside with the crunch of bones shattering. These commanders limp and are smitten with bolts that no longer reside on high in Jove’s hands. Smoldering armor aglow in the darkness that blots out the vision of those who called themselves the masters of this land. Primordial weapons fall away forgotten as long before those below have finished crying out, those above retreat to the edges of the realm. Chariots reduced to slag and cinder gust away to chase the cowards who refused to hold against a single warrior.

Upon the earth, smashed legions are reduced to fragments heaped so that the dead stumble as they are swallowed by a rest that will not end. Damned living and those who are dying tangle in a final dance. Decimation marches out among the souls upon the field uprooting all until its tunic is drenched and splattered and the eyes of all have rested upon a visage skillfully and yet obscenely carved from the stuff of oblivion itself.

Time meaningless and worthless leaves the day ended as a glut for the earth and carrion whom Baal’s chosen has gathered. There will be no cleansing now or ever as the fading light encircles a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood fulfilled in blood and see the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

\\\* \\\* \\\*

 

Book II

The Unbound

Summoned hosts that see not and know not that curse which descended and was levied upon ones who were so bound, be drowned so as to walk the path of revelations. Tongues unsheathed speak now of the descent which was a brand cast as dying embers onto realms reclaimed from the hands of those whose fear was slaughtered upon the altar that so mocked Ultor. Learn of the second who arose by vow blade bare and dripping with vengeance and a rage that not even the depths of the Rubicon can ever cool or cleanse.

Unseeing ones perceive the lands Romulus from afar through mists long gone from the vision of a bent man once sovereign over the chains Mors and the bolt of Jove. The jaws of iron and steel smashing down transforming the ethereal into the maw of some horrific hound left behind nothing but the entrails rotting for swarms to swoop down and take. Shockwaves shake the land as the maelstrom swirls with the favored one aglow with eternity standing at his back and a hall of crimson and splintered bone without clear end before him.

Gathered hosts from the skies above and the shadowed realms are as a pestilence upon the consecrated temple. Its priest marches forth with phantoms at his side. That service of unending slaughter lacks the offal of the seven hills the Ceres so desires. Her favor points the way to the Tiber though the prince crowned by the mantle of Jove soaks in the gore that seeped into the bones of Terra blessing her without the ceremonies of prophets who had failed to peer into the mind of the holder of Bellona’s own spear which had fallen. His steps are astride the Earth mother but leave not from this kiln blasted field.

Hour, hour, hour taking flight of its own when the mighty one does not and the hosts gathered from the expanse of the heavens allow the cornucopia to sate them not with the flesh of their enemies, but the bosom of the earth. Those powers which guided them through the Aether call out in the night and disturb the dreams to no avail. Screaming clarions do not rouse them and the sheep of the seven hills rose not to flee into the desert hewn with blade and slings ordained not by any who Janus would have seen. Wonders were not known in this place, only the whispers of phantoms.

Flight from the breast of the slaughtered never marched step, step, step into the waters whose depth challenges Minerva to the limits of the Sibylline words. Rage, rage, rage ascends roaring in vainest vanity wandering in the deepest night unlit by torch or the light of Baal’s own flame. Mists follow those whose hunger is ravenous but has naught to satiate it. Within a sacred ire is alit to no avail. That metropolis which stands at the maw of the abyss gazes now and does no more to the messengers of slaughter who now cannot glut that which used to welcome them.

Earthen deities yield nothing and bare not what they might offer standing atop ramparts all their own that will not fall. Grizzled spirits that long to take what would be theirs are rebuffed without offerings of appeasement or the imperium that spits upon them from afar. Blazing lust wanton for the glory of triumph that so eludes them rising into the rocks and crags of crystal so far behind and lost in fog. A call comes from fools whose seething hearts now expose beating machinations that would demand that the storm return.

Slinking away the viper seeks a home that was never his and a place most accursed to the name Barka. Words, words, words wasted as the mighty immortal lightning in the storm calls now not as a cowed beast of burden, but the heir of the Sicilian Barcid. Silence follows him as within chambers that he beholds with eyes closed to the hobbled doves in flight the favored one longs for that which was his. A mirror opposite him departs as he does, both waiting now for that which will come for there is no choice.

After many days gone by with neither the risen armies of Romulus nor the cobbled wolves of Hamilcar’s heir having drawn together in the whirlwinds of slaughter the air grew still. Shrouded in the veil before dawn the one who carried the lash of Nemesis who would be called Africanus arose in quiet and descended alone into the gloom. His head turns toward Nox and his eyes are ablaze. “Hear me harbinger of the Parcae and answer me mistress of vengeance. By my name I damn those who stand across this field and invoke the imperium of Jove himself. If goddess, you be retribution true then I objure you to answer my call. The legions of the bane of mine approach. My oath against the Barcid sworn by the blood of my fathers and over my father’s blood you will fulfil. Lower them from where they stand on high and drag away their stormy shield. If you not be Just then descend now into the realm of Nox and there remain.”

The wizened one of the barbed wiles grayed and yet still sharpened upon the whetstone of Hamilcar’s knees surveyed the field eyes gazing into the slowly closing night. After a time, eyes closed, he faces the skies above the host of Africanus. “As that day of my ascent over the enemy and my bathing of your hands in their blood I bind you my god. If you truly, be he who those years ago placed into my hand these whose destruction I demanded then now you must do so again that your altar may drink again. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then death be upon your head.”

Arrayed across the unstained field the monsters charged horns upraised upon the violently trembling earth. From the midst of those who stand across clarion, clarion, clarion ring out smashing into the behemoths. They shake and shatter all do scatter driving aside those who upon horse’s back wheel in terror. Those were resplendent again are so as the two forces meet below even as the upper realm threatens to be sundered.

Looking glasses and mirrors aligned as all that is, is throughout the cosmos.

Above the winds lash and the lash strikes both warriors shouting and cursing as even the bodies of the divine begin to protest and bow. Ichor falling, falling, falling dropping into the earth where the Void reigns. Bolts striking out throw aside the Lady of Vengeance leaving even the primordial one burned by the storm. Back one step then two she goes as the same befalls the world beneath her sandaled feet. Even as to a knee she drops, and the standard of her strength appears lost she stands.

Dancing about her lash striking forth she draws first blood. Shattered bones elicit cries as Baal falls and no more stirs.

The one called Africanus stands with eyes alight as the farmer of Romulus’ land now waters the Punic fields. Run, run, run they flee escaping now broken. Eagle flying over the fallen high is aglow in the light of the fading day.

The sanctuary of Dido is fallen now with none to hold the foundations of the walls. Where before no might remained to the sons of Anaeus now they have slain Dido once more.

The son of the Barcid escapes the field upon his lips his bond unforgotten from the ambers that sputter within. Oath sewn onto his flesh he carries far and afield until at last he is found more wizened still. He knows what comes though he surrenders not to the hands that he damned and damned him in turn. Eyes turned up one last time as death trickles down his maw he stares on high.

“You who abandoned me to death this day know this as the gasping winds puff away into the depths of night. You were my god and also not my god from the rise of my father’s house both accursed and blessed to this the fall.”

The fading light flees a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes flicker yet somehow are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood, fulfilled in blood, and consecrated in blood.

See the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

​

Favored

“Son of my light, blessed of my hand, truth you will illuminate.”

— after a Baal inscription

 

Book I

The Favored

Speak now of the rage summoned down from the very spirit of the storms and given the form of men naked of the fear of Mars Ultor. Tell of the unsheathed swords which across the sea waged battle that Baal watched with illuminated eyes. Know of how the avenger himself lay bloodied in the hills where even Janus was blind and the songs of the sons of Romulus were dirges and laments. See the pact sealed in the name of a master and demanded of the bloodline of lightning. Drown in the visions as now they appear. Specters accusatory and blinded guide us.

Gaze down from on high and behold Sicilia as lifted mists reveal not the dance of steel, but that of a consecrated soul hiding in the crags. Armies drawn from lands shrouded in clouds spill ruby droplets that in a sea are lost and yet leave tracks starker than any beast of prey. Walls stricken repel the legions wandering from the embrace of Ceres into the jaws of the great leech of the Punic lands. Furrowed ground slowly watered at his hand echoes his name never cast to the ground by the power of Jove who on high to him bent a knee.

Hamilcar, girded to shatter the arms of Rome bound by the curse Plutus drew to himself not the fate of the fallen, but a vow that could not be sated. An altar bathed in wrath called for vengeance and the continuance of farming to cull the souls of those who resided on a river yet to be stained and dyed as surely as a sacrificial font. Side by side the elder and the one upon whom the master favors swore that Hypnos would bring no sleep to their eyes until as the fate of the city of Priam was the fate of the metropolis atop the seven hills. “Swear to me boy, before The Storm Lord, that you shall extract eternal vengeance. Swear or be lost to the abyss heir of mine dishonor.”

Youth not yet witness to torments with none but the love that only youth knows with hand caked in the gore of sacrifice splatted by a single blow speaks no words that his eyes do not announce. A different spirit is borne as the western land comes now to take the light of Carthage tarnished and whose glow was a single instant before buffeting winds came with endless shadow and tore him away.

In the darkness ascendent more than the deepest night a blinding beam raises one who grabs hold of the bolt in Jupiter’s own hand and joins it to his own flesh. On feet not more swift than those of Talos, but surer than Achilles he goes west to summon from all corners the messengers of his covenant with the ancestors of the conqueror of the eastern lands. Unyielding shields fell to his hands as Saguntum ascended in smoke tearing the sky asunder with no tears shed to the east.

There is nought to him, but a vision of the mountains capped in crystal. Juggernauts ascending into ice and frigid knives that as sure as hunger never-ending reap until into the fields of the cornucopia they arrive. Upon the banks of Ticinus flight, flight as the noble eagle fell and dropped into the dust before an onyx wave. Rushing and washing over bronze clad flesh swift slaughter came with Mars trembling on high.

Silence envelops the shouts of Bellona when fools gave chase in haste without knowing that no one so foolish as they confronted them in Trebia’s shadow. Doom sealed in haste empowered steps screeches, but none can hear it. Closer and closer they come now, weapons raised then comes the maw of the monster they thought to judge. Slamming shut with unforgiving violence it digs deeper than bone and sinew spilling the libations of their lord with rapturous delight. War mocked cannot even slink away in honor with might crushed underfoot.

In night flame betrays and draws surer than the bit draws the horse to its doom at the grave of the Trasimine. Shades racing the inferno within descend from the heights and the very power of the earth behind them drives them home true. Into the waters, into the waters, into the waters they go icy hands closing in around them and pulling them to the depths. Shell meant to drive away frigid steel now drives down legions to rest upon the bed of the river forevermore. In their thousands they are no more with few enough carried in shackles and disgrace to declare destruction the name of this day.

Resplendent, they march in their armored legions, both human and divine onto a once silent field they have never had revealed to them neither by the augurs and their omens nor by the fleet of foot sent ahead. Come they did, chasing away the flies of the Punic warlord that whispered in their ears and bronzed the eyes of the godly troops. For days the time was not right to smite the enemy and so they did not come forth to strike out and lash the enemy. Three camps two below and one above tensely buzzing with barely concealed restraint. Lust burns hotly in veins desirous of blood more than anything else in the mortal plane. Silence waits in the wings ready to break and escape if the order is given.

Soon the battle will come knows he who used his barbed whip of wiles to ignite the path to this path. The night before he will call forth the restraints upon his foe that he may cast them into a pit without end he steps out alone. Surrounded by nought, but the edges of his slaughterers he closes his eyes and turns his face upward. “My master to you I call. I have bled in your name and brought forth slaughter on account of your name. My oath binds you my master. The enemy draws with their host near to destroy your name. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then flee and allow the bolt of lightning to set this land ablaze!”

He spread across the land facing the enemy drawing them close his words hanging as surely as the swarming murder that flew up above. Onward came the blinded and the unknowingly blessed while above the winds began to stir. On the ground below the unbeaten began to buckle as cries rang out from the lords of the Tiber. Iron holds them firm, but fury is a relentless slaver whose hand will not be stayed.

One step, two steps, and then three as into the beating heart of the monster they march certainty painting their blades until a single cawing raven’s cry opens up the gates where only the damned may go. Teeth of iron sink in deep as on all sides as a screaming is heard which rends even the hearts of those who had cried in rage. Agony, agony, conflagration licking with the greatest hunger as all are grasped and thrashed about the uncaring field. The stench of butchery flies truer than any arrow saturating every mind and piercing all flesh.

In the heights hammer blows of the winds toss the host of Jove, Mars, Bellona, and Minerva aside with the crunch of bones shattering. These commanders limp and are smitten with bolts that no longer reside on high in Jove’s hands. Smoldering armor aglow in the darkness that blots out the vision of those who called themselves the masters of this land. Primordial weapons fall away forgotten as long before those below have finished crying out, those above retreat to the edges of the realm. Chariots reduced to slag and cinder gust away to chase the cowards who refused to hold against a single warrior.

Upon the earth, smashed legions are reduced to fragments heaped so that the dead stumble as they are swallowed by a rest that will not end. Damned living and those who are dying tangle in a final dance. Decimation marches out among the souls upon the field uprooting all until its tunic is drenched and splattered and the eyes of all have rested upon a visage skillfully and yet obscenely carved from the stuff of oblivion itself.

Time meaningless and worthless leaves the day ended as a glut for the earth and carrion whom Baal’s chosen has gathered. There will be no cleansing now or ever as the fading light encircles a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood fulfilled in blood and see the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

\\\* \\\* \\\*

 

Book II

The Unbound

Summoned hosts that see not and know not that curse which descended and was levied upon ones who were so bound, be drowned so as to walk the path of revelations. Tongues unsheathed speak now of the descent which was a brand cast as dying embers onto realms reclaimed from the hands of those whose fear was slaughtered upon the altar that so mocked Ultor. Learn of the second who arose by vow blade bare and dripping with vengeance and a rage that not even the depths of the Rubicon can ever cool or cleanse.

Unseeing ones perceive the lands Romulus from afar through mists long gone from the vision of a bent man once sovereign over the chains Mors and the bolt of Jove. The jaws of iron and steel smashing down transforming the ethereal into the maw of some horrific hound left behind nothing but the entrails rotting for swarms to swoop down and take. Shockwaves shake the land as the maelstrom swirls with the favored one aglow with eternity standing at his back and a hall of crimson and splintered bone without clear end before him.

Gathered hosts from the skies above and the shadowed realms are as a pestilence upon the consecrated temple. Its priest marches forth with phantoms at his side. That service of unending slaughter lacks the offal of the seven hills the Ceres so desires. Her favor points the way to the Tiber though the prince crowned by the mantle of Jove soaks in the gore that seeped into the bones of Terra blessing her without the ceremonies of prophets who had failed to peer into the mind of the holder of Bellona’s own spear which had fallen. His steps are astride the Earth mother but leave not from this kiln blasted field.

Hour, hour, hour taking flight of its own when the mighty one does not and the hosts gathered from the expanse of the heavens allow the cornucopia to sate them not with the flesh of their enemies, but the bosom of the earth. Those powers which guided them through the Aether call out in the night and disturb the dreams to no avail. Screaming clarions do not rouse them and the sheep of the seven hills rose not to flee into the desert hewn with blade and slings ordained not by any who Janus would have seen. Wonders were not known in this place, only the whispers of phantoms.

Flight from the breast of the slaughtered never marched step, step, step into the waters whose depth challenges Minerva to the limits of the Sibylline words. Rage, rage, rage ascends roaring in vainest vanity wandering in the deepest night unlit by torch or the light of Baal’s own flame. Mists follow those whose hunger is ravenous but has naught to satiate it. Within a sacred ire is alit to no avail. That metropolis which stands at the maw of the abyss gazes now and does no more to the messengers of slaughter who now cannot glut that which used to welcome them.

Earthen deities yield nothing and bare not what they might offer standing atop ramparts all their own that will not fall. Grizzled spirits that long to take what would be theirs are rebuffed without offerings of appeasement or the imperium that spits upon them from afar. Blazing lust wanton for the glory of triumph that so eludes them rising into the rocks and crags of crystal so far behind and lost in fog. A call comes from fools whose seething hearts now expose beating machinations that would demand that the storm return.

Slinking away the viper seeks a home that was never his and a place most accursed to the name Barka. Words, words, words wasted as the mighty immortal lightning in the storm calls now not as a cowed beast of burden, but the heir of the Sicilian Barcid. Silence follows him as within chambers that he beholds with eyes closed to the hobbled doves in flight the favored one longs for that which was his. A mirror opposite him departs as he does, both waiting now for that which will come for there is no choice.

After many days gone by with neither the risen armies of Romulus nor the cobbled wolves of Hamilcar’s heir having drawn together in the whirlwinds of slaughter the air grew still. Shrouded in the veil before dawn the one who carried the lash of Nemesis who would be called Africanus arose in quiet and descended alone into the gloom. His head turns toward Nox and his eyes are ablaze. “Hear me harbinger of the Parcae and answer me mistress of vengeance. By my name I damn those who stand across this field and invoke the imperium of Jove himself. If goddess, you be retribution true then I objure you to answer my call. The legions of the bane of mine approach. My oath against the Barcid sworn by the blood of my fathers and over my father’s blood you will fulfil. Lower them from where they stand on high and drag away their stormy shield. If you not be Just then descend now into the realm of Nox and there remain.”

The wizened one of the barbed wiles grayed and yet still sharpened upon the whetstone of Hamilcar’s knees surveyed the field eyes gazing into the slowly closing night. After a time, eyes closed, he faces the skies above the host of Africanus. “As that day of my ascent over the enemy and my bathing of your hands in their blood I bind you my god. If you truly, be he who those years ago placed into my hand these whose destruction I demanded then now you must do so again that your altar may drink again. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then death be upon your head.”

Arrayed across the unstained field the monsters charged horns upraised upon the violently trembling earth. From the midst of those who stand across clarion, clarion, clarion ring out smashing into the behemoths. They shake and shatter all do scatter driving aside those who upon horse’s back wheel in terror. Those were resplendent again are so as the two forces meet below even as the upper realm threatens to be sundered.

Looking glasses and mirrors aligned as all that is, is throughout the cosmos.

Above the winds lash and the lash strikes both warriors shouting and cursing as even the bodies of the divine begin to protest and bow. Ichor falling, falling, falling dropping into the earth where the Void reigns. Bolts striking out throw aside the Lady of Vengeance leaving even the primordial one burned by the storm. Back one step then two she goes as the same befalls the world beneath her sandaled feet. Even as to a knee she drops, and the standard of her strength appears lost she stands.

Dancing about her lash striking forth she draws first blood. Shattered bones elicit cries as Baal falls and no more stirs.

The one called Africanus stands with eyes alight as the farmer of Romulus’ land now waters the Punic fields. Run, run, run they flee escaping now broken. Eagle flying over the fallen high is aglow in the light of the fading day.

The sanctuary of Dido is fallen now with none to hold the foundations of the walls. Where before no might remained to the sons of Anaeus now they have slain Dido once more.

The son of the Barcid escapes the field upon his lips his bond unforgotten from the ambers that sputter within. Oath sewn onto his flesh he carries far and afield until at last he is found more wizened still. He knows what comes though he surrenders not to the hands that he damned and damned him in turn. Eyes turned up one last time as death trickles down his maw he stares on high.

“You who abandoned me to death this day know this as the gasping winds puff away into the depths of night. You were my god and also not my god from the rise of my father’s house both accursed and blessed to this the fall.”

The fading light flees a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes flicker yet somehow are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood, fulfilled in blood, and consecrated in blood.

See the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

Favored

“Son of my light, blessed of my hand, truth you will illuminate.”

— after a Baal inscription

 

Book I

The Favored

Speak now of the rage summoned down from the very spirit of the storms and given the form of men naked of the fear of Mars Ultor. Tell of the unsheathed swords which across the sea waged battle that Baal watched with illuminated eyes. Know of how the avenger himself lay bloodied in the hills where even Janus was blind and the songs of the sons of Romulus were dirges and laments. See the pact sealed in the name of a master and demanded of the bloodline of lightning. Drown in the visions as now they appear. Specters accusatory and blinded guide us.

Gaze down from on high and behold Sicilia as lifted mists reveal not the dance of steel, but that of a consecrated soul hiding in the crags. Armies drawn from lands shrouded in clouds spill ruby droplets that in a sea are lost and yet leave tracks starker than any beast of prey. Walls stricken repel the legions wandering from the embrace of Ceres into the jaws of the great leech of the Punic lands. Furrowed ground slowly watered at his hand echoes his name never cast to the ground by the power of Jove who on high to him bent a knee.

Hamilcar, girded to shatter the arms of Rome bound by the curse Plutus drew to himself not the fate of the fallen, but a vow that could not be sated. An altar bathed in wrath called for vengeance and the continuance of farming to cull the souls of those who resided on a river yet to be stained and dyed as surely as a sacrificial font. Side by side the elder and the one upon whom the master favors swore that Hypnos would bring no sleep to their eyes until as the fate of the city of Priam was the fate of the metropolis atop the seven hills. “Swear to me boy, before The Storm Lord, that you shall extract eternal vengeance. Swear or be lost to the abyss heir of mine dishonor.”

Youth not yet witness to torments with none but the love that only youth knows with hand caked in the gore of sacrifice splatted by a single blow speaks no words that his eyes do not announce. A different spirit is borne as the western land comes now to take the light of Carthage tarnished and whose glow was a single instant before buffeting winds came with endless shadow and tore him away.

In the darkness ascendent more than the deepest night a blinding beam raises one who grabs hold of the bolt in Jupiter’s own hand and joins it to his own flesh. On feet not more swift than those of Talos, but surer than Achilles he goes west to summon from all corners the messengers of his covenant with the ancestors of the conqueror of the eastern lands. Unyielding shields fell to his hands as Saguntum ascended in smoke tearing the sky asunder with no tears shed to the east.

There is nought to him, but a vision of the mountains capped in crystal. Juggernauts ascending into ice and frigid knives that as sure as hunger never-ending reap until into the fields of the cornucopia they arrive. Upon the banks of Ticinus flight, flight as the noble eagle fell and dropped into the dust before an onyx wave. Rushing and washing over bronze clad flesh swift slaughter came with Mars trembling on high.

Silence envelops the shouts of Bellona when fools gave chase in haste without knowing that no one so foolish as they confronted them in Trebia’s shadow. Doom sealed in haste empowered steps screeches, but none can hear it. Closer and closer they come now, weapons raised then comes the maw of the monster they thought to judge. Slamming shut with unforgiving violence it digs deeper than bone and sinew spilling the libations of their lord with rapturous delight. War mocked cannot even slink away in honor with might crushed underfoot.

In night flame betrays and draws surer than the bit draws the horse to its doom at the grave of the Trasimine. Shades racing the inferno within descend from the heights and the very power of the earth behind them drives them home true. Into the waters, into the waters, into the waters they go icy hands closing in around them and pulling them to the depths. Shell meant to drive away frigid steel now drives down legions to rest upon the bed of the river forevermore. In their thousands they are no more with few enough carried in shackles and disgrace to declare destruction the name of this day.

Resplendent, they march in their armored legions, both human and divine onto a once silent field they have never had revealed to them neither by the augurs and their omens nor by the fleet of foot sent ahead. Come they did, chasing away the flies of the Punic warlord that whispered in their ears and bronzed the eyes of the godly troops. For days the time was not right to smite the enemy and so they did not come forth to strike out and lash the enemy. Three camps two below and one above tensely buzzing with barely concealed restraint. Lust burns hotly in veins desirous of blood more than anything else in the mortal plane. Silence waits in the wings ready to break and escape if the order is given.

Soon the battle will come knows he who used his barbed whip of wiles to ignite the path to this path. The night before he will call forth the restraints upon his foe that he may cast them into a pit without end he steps out alone. Surrounded by nought, but the edges of his slaughterers he closes his eyes and turns his face upward. “My master to you I call. I have bled in your name and brought forth slaughter on account of your name. My oath binds you my master. The enemy draws with their host near to destroy your name. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then flee and allow the bolt of lightning to set this land ablaze!”

He spread across the land facing the enemy drawing them close his words hanging as surely as the swarming murder that flew up above. Onward came the blinded and the unknowingly blessed while above the winds began to stir. On the ground below the unbeaten began to buckle as cries rang out from the lords of the Tiber. Iron holds them firm, but fury is a relentless slaver whose hand will not be stayed.

One step, two steps, and then three as into the beating heart of the monster they march certainty painting their blades until a single cawing raven’s cry opens up the gates where only the damned may go. Teeth of iron sink in deep as on all sides as a screaming is heard which rends even the hearts of those who had cried in rage. Agony, agony, conflagration licking with the greatest hunger as all are grasped and thrashed about the uncaring field. The stench of butchery flies truer than any arrow saturating every mind and piercing all flesh.

In the heights hammer blows of the winds toss the host of Jove, Mars, Bellona, and Minerva aside with the crunch of bones shattering. These commanders limp and are smitten with bolts that no longer reside on high in Jove’s hands. Smoldering armor aglow in the darkness that blots out the vision of those who called themselves the masters of this land. Primordial weapons fall away forgotten as long before those below have finished crying out, those above retreat to the edges of the realm. Chariots reduced to slag and cinder gust away to chase the cowards who refused to hold against a single warrior.

Upon the earth, smashed legions are reduced to fragments heaped so that the dead stumble as they are swallowed by a rest that will not end. Damned living and those who are dying tangle in a final dance. Decimation marches out among the souls upon the field uprooting all until its tunic is drenched and splattered and the eyes of all have rested upon a visage skillfully and yet obscenely carved from the stuff of oblivion itself.

Time meaningless and worthless leaves the day ended as a glut for the earth and carrion whom Baal’s chosen has gathered. There will be no cleansing now or ever as the fading light encircles a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood fulfilled in blood and see the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

\* \* \*

 

Book II

The Unbound

Summoned hosts that see not and know not that curse which descended and was levied upon ones who were so bound, be drowned so as to walk the path of revelations. Tongues unsheathed speak now of the descent which was a brand cast as dying embers onto realms reclaimed from the hands of those whose fear was slaughtered upon the altar that so mocked Ultor. Learn of the second who arose by vow blade bare and dripping with vengeance and a rage that not even the depths of the Rubicon can ever cool or cleanse.

Unseeing ones perceive the lands Romulus from afar through mists long gone from the vision of a bent man once sovereign over the chains Mors and the bolt of Jove. The jaws of iron and steel smashing down transforming the ethereal into the maw of some horrific hound left behind nothing but the entrails rotting for swarms to swoop down and take. Shockwaves shake the land as the maelstrom swirls with the favored one aglow with eternity standing at his back and a hall of crimson and splintered bone without clear end before him.

Gathered hosts from the skies above and the shadowed realms are as a pestilence upon the consecrated temple. Its priest marches forth with phantoms at his side. That service of unending slaughter lacks the offal of the seven hills the Ceres so desires. Her favor points the way to the Tiber though the prince crowned by the mantle of Jove soaks in the gore that seeped into the bones of Terra blessing her without the ceremonies of prophets who had failed to peer into the mind of the holder of Bellona’s own spear which had fallen. His steps are astride the Earth mother but leave not from this kiln blasted field.

Hour, hour, hour taking flight of its own when the mighty one does not and the hosts gathered from the expanse of the heavens allow the cornucopia to sate them not with the flesh of their enemies, but the bosom of the earth. Those powers which guided them through the Aether call out in the night and disturb the dreams to no avail. Screaming clarions do not rouse them and the sheep of the seven hills rose not to flee into the desert hewn with blade and slings ordained not by any who Janus would have seen. Wonders were not known in this place, only the whispers of phantoms.

Flight from the breast of the slaughtered never marched step, step, step into the waters whose depth challenges Minerva to the limits of the Sibylline words. Rage, rage, rage ascends roaring in vainest vanity wandering in the deepest night unlit by torch or the light of Baal’s own flame. Mists follow those whose hunger is ravenous but has naught to satiate it. Within a sacred ire is alit to no avail. That metropolis which stands at the maw of the abyss gazes now and does no more to the messengers of slaughter who now cannot glut that which used to welcome them.

Earthen deities yield nothing and bare not what they might offer standing atop ramparts all their own that will not fall. Grizzled spirits that long to take what would be theirs are rebuffed without offerings of appeasement or the imperium that spits upon them from afar. Blazing lust wanton for the glory of triumph that so eludes them rising into the rocks and crags of crystal so far behind and lost in fog. A call comes from fools whose seething hearts now expose beating machinations that would demand that the storm return.

Slinking away the viper seeks a home that was never his and a place most accursed to the name Barka. Words, words, words wasted as the mighty immortal lightning in the storm calls now not as a cowed beast of burden, but the heir of the Sicilian Barcid. Silence follows him as within chambers that he beholds with eyes closed to the hobbled doves in flight the favored one longs for that which was his. A mirror opposite him departs as he does, both waiting now for that which will come for there is no choice.

After many days gone by with neither the risen armies of Romulus nor the cobbled wolves of Hamilcar’s heir having drawn together in the whirlwinds of slaughter the air grew still. Shrouded in the veil before dawn the one who carried the lash of Nemesis who would be called Africanus arose in quiet and descended alone into the gloom. His head turns toward Nox and his eyes are ablaze. “Hear me harbinger of the Parcae and answer me mistress of vengeance. By my name I damn those who stand across this field and invoke the imperium of Jove himself. If goddess, you be retribution true then I objure you to answer my call. The legions of the bane of mine approach. My oath against the Barcid sworn by the blood of my fathers and over my father’s blood you will fulfil. Lower them from where they stand on high and drag away their stormy shield. If you not be Just then descend now into the realm of Nox and there remain.”

The wizened one of the barbed wiles grayed and yet still sharpened upon the whetstone of Hamilcar’s knees surveyed the field eyes gazing into the slowly closing night. After a time, eyes closed, he faces the skies above the host of Africanus. “As that day of my ascent over the enemy and my bathing of your hands in their blood I bind you my god. If you truly, be he who those years ago placed into my hand these whose destruction I demanded then now you must do so again that your altar may drink again. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then death be upon your head.”

Arrayed across the unstained field the monsters charged horns upraised upon the violently trembling earth. From the midst of those who stand across clarion, clarion, clarion ring out smashing into the behemoths. They shake and shatter all do scatter driving aside those who upon horse’s back wheel in terror. Those were resplendent again are so as the two forces meet below even as the upper realm threatens to be sundered.

Looking glasses and mirrors aligned as all that is, is throughout the cosmos.

Above the winds lash and the lash strikes both warriors shouting and cursing as even the bodies of the divine begin to protest and bow. Ichor falling, falling, falling dropping into the earth where the Void reigns. Bolts striking out throw aside the Lady of Vengeance leaving even the primordial one burned by the storm. Back one step then two she goes as the same befalls the world beneath her sandaled feet. Even as to a knee she drops, and the standard of her strength appears lost she stands.

Dancing about her lash striking forth she draws first blood. Shattered bones elicit cries as Baal falls and no more stirs.

The one called Africanus stands with eyes alight as the farmer of Romulus’ land now waters the Punic fields. Run, run, run they flee escaping now broken. Eagle flying over the fallen high is aglow in the light of the fading day.

The sanctuary of Dido is fallen now with none to hold the foundations of the walls. Where before no might remained to the sons of Anaeus now they have slain Dido once more.

The son of the Barcid escapes the field upon his lips his bond unforgotten from the ambers that sputter within. Oath sewn onto his flesh he carries far and afield until at last he is found more wizened still. He knows what comes though he surrenders not to the hands that he damned and damned him in turn. Eyes turned up one last time as death trickles down his maw he stares on high.

“You who abandoned me to death this day know this as the gasping winds puff away into the depths of night. You were my god and also not my god from the rise of my father’s house both accursed and blessed to this the fall.”

The fading light flees a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes flicker yet somehow are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood, fulfilled in blood, and consecrated in blood.

See the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

Favored

“Son of my light, blessed of my hand, truth you will illuminate.”

— after a Baal inscription

 

Book I

The Favored

Speak now of the rage summoned down from the very spirit of the storms and given the form of men naked of the fear of Mars Ultor. Tell of the unsheathed swords which across the sea waged battle that Baal watched with illuminated eyes. Know of how the avenger himself lay bloodied in the hills where even Janus was blind and the songs of the sons of Romulus were dirges and laments. See the pact sealed in the name of a master and demanded of the bloodline of lightning. Drown in the visions as now they appear. Specters accusatory and blinded guide us.

Gaze down from on high and behold Sicilia as lifted mists reveal not the dance of steel, but that of a consecrated soul hiding in the crags. Armies drawn from lands shrouded in clouds spill ruby droplets that in a sea are lost and yet leave tracks starker than any beast of prey. Walls stricken repel the legions wandering from the embrace of Ceres into the jaws of the great leech of the Punic lands. Furrowed ground slowly watered at his hand echoes his name never cast to the ground by the power of Jove who on high to him bent a knee.

Hamilcar, girded to shatter the arms of Rome bound by the curse Plutus drew to himself not the fate of the fallen, but a vow that could not be sated. An altar bathed in wrath called for vengeance and the continuance of farming to cull the souls of those who resided on a river yet to be stained and dyed as surely as a sacrificial font. Side by side the elder and the one upon whom the master favors swore that Hypnos would bring no sleep to their eyes until as the fate of the city of Priam was the fate of the metropolis atop the seven hills. “Swear to me boy, before The Storm Lord, that you shall extract eternal vengeance. Swear or be lost to the abyss heir of mine dishonor.”

Youth not yet witness to torments with none but the love that only youth knows with hand caked in the gore of sacrifice splatted by a single blow speaks no words that his eyes do not announce. A different spirit is borne as the western land comes now to take the light of Carthage tarnished and whose glow was a single instant before buffeting winds came with endless shadow and tore him away.

In the darkness ascendent more than the deepest night a blinding beam raises one who grabs hold of the bolt in Jupiter’s own hand and joins it to his own flesh. On feet not more swift than those of Talos, but surer than Achilles he goes west to summon from all corners the messengers of his covenant with the ancestors of the conqueror of the eastern lands. Unyielding shields fell to his hands as Saguntum ascended in smoke tearing the sky asunder with no tears shed to the east.

There is nought to him, but a vision of the mountains capped in crystal. Juggernauts ascending into ice and frigid knives that as sure as hunger never-ending reap until into the fields of the cornucopia they arrive. Upon the banks of Ticinus flight, flight as the noble eagle fell and dropped into the dust before an onyx wave. Rushing and washing over bronze clad flesh swift slaughter came with Mars trembling on high.

Silence envelops the shouts of Bellona when fools gave chase in haste without knowing that no one so foolish as they confronted them in Trebia’s shadow. Doom sealed in haste empowered steps screeches, but none can hear it. Closer and closer they come now, weapons raised then comes the maw of the monster they thought to judge. Slamming shut with unforgiving violence it digs deeper than bone and sinew spilling the libations of their lord with rapturous delight. War mocked cannot even slink away in honor with might crushed underfoot.

In night flame betrays and draws surer than the bit draws the horse to its doom at the grave of the Trasimine. Shades racing the inferno within descend from the heights and the very power of the earth behind them drives them home true. Into the waters, into the waters, into the waters they go icy hands closing in around them and pulling them to the depths. Shell meant to drive away frigid steel now drives down legions to rest upon the bed of the river forevermore. In their thousands they are no more with few enough carried in shackles and disgrace to declare destruction the name of this day.

Resplendent, they march in their armored legions, both human and divine onto a once silent field they have never had revealed to them neither by the augurs and their omens nor by the fleet of foot sent ahead. Come they did, chasing away the flies of the Punic warlord that whispered in their ears and bronzed the eyes of the godly troops. For days the time was not right to smite the enemy and so they did not come forth to strike out and lash the enemy. Three camps two below and one above tensely buzzing with barely concealed restraint. Lust burns hotly in veins desirous of blood more than anything else in the mortal plane. Silence waits in the wings ready to break and escape if the order is given.

Soon the battle will come knows he who used his barbed whip of wiles to ignite the path to this path. The night before he will call forth the restraints upon his foe that he may cast them into a pit without end he steps out alone. Surrounded by nought, but the edges of his slaughterers he closes his eyes and turns his face upward. “My master to you I call. I have bled in your name and brought forth slaughter on account of your name. My oath binds you my master. The enemy draws with their host near to destroy your name. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then flee and allow the bolt of lightning to set this land ablaze!”

He spread across the land facing the enemy drawing them close his words hanging as surely as the swarming murder that flew up above. Onward came the blinded and the unknowingly blessed while above the winds began to stir. On the ground below the unbeaten began to buckle as cries rang out from the lords of the Tiber. Iron holds them firm, but fury is a relentless slaver whose hand will not be stayed.

One step, two steps, and then three as into the beating heart of the monster they march certainty painting their blades until a single cawing raven’s cry opens up the gates where only the damned may go. Teeth of iron sink in deep as on all sides as a screaming is heard which rends even the hearts of those who had cried in rage. Agony, agony, conflagration licking with the greatest hunger as all are grasped and thrashed about the uncaring field. The stench of butchery flies truer than any arrow saturating every mind and piercing all flesh.

In the heights hammer blows of the winds toss the host of Jove, Mars, Bellona, and Minerva aside with the crunch of bones shattering. These commanders limp and are smitten with bolts that no longer reside on high in Jove’s hands. Smoldering armor aglow in the darkness that blots out the vision of those who called themselves the masters of this land. Primordial weapons fall away forgotten as long before those below have finished crying out, those above retreat to the edges of the realm. Chariots reduced to slag and cinder gust away to chase the cowards who refused to hold against a single warrior.

Upon the earth, smashed legions are reduced to fragments heaped so that the dead stumble as they are swallowed by a rest that will not end. Damned living and those who are dying tangle in a final dance. Decimation marches out among the souls upon the field uprooting all until its tunic is drenched and splattered and the eyes of all have rested upon a visage skillfully and yet obscenely carved from the stuff of oblivion itself.

Time meaningless and worthless leaves the day ended as a glut for the earth and carrion whom Baal’s chosen has gathered. There will be no cleansing now or ever as the fading light encircles a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood fulfilled in blood and see the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

\* \* \*

 

Book II

The Unbound

Summoned hosts that see not and know not that curse which descended and was levied upon ones who were so bound, be drowned so as to walk the path of revelations. Tongues unsheathed speak now of the descent which was a brand cast as dying embers onto realms reclaimed from the hands of those whose fear was slaughtered upon the altar that so mocked Ultor. Learn of the second who arose by vow blade bare and dripping with vengeance and a rage that not even the depths of the Rubicon can ever cool or cleanse.

Unseeing ones perceive the lands Romulus from afar through mists long gone from the vision of a bent man once sovereign over the chains Mors and the bolt of Jove. The jaws of iron and steel smashing down transforming the ethereal into the maw of some horrific hound left behind nothing but the entrails rotting for swarms to swoop down and take. Shockwaves shake the land as the maelstrom swirls with the favored one aglow with eternity standing at his back and a hall of crimson and splintered bone without clear end before him.

Gathered hosts from the skies above and the shadowed realms are as a pestilence upon the consecrated temple. Its priest marches forth with phantoms at his side. That service of unending slaughter lacks the offal of the seven hills the Ceres so desires. Her favor points the way to the Tiber though the prince crowned by the mantle of Jove soaks in the gore that seeped into the bones of Terra blessing her without the ceremonies of prophets who had failed to peer into the mind of the holder of Bellona’s own spear which had fallen. His steps are astride the Earth mother but leave not from this kiln blasted field.

Hour, hour, hour taking flight of its own when the mighty one does not and the hosts gathered from the expanse of the heavens allow the cornucopia to sate them not with the flesh of their enemies, but the bosom of the earth. Those powers which guided them through the Aether call out in the night and disturb the dreams to no avail. Screaming clarions do not rouse them and the sheep of the seven hills rose not to flee into the desert hewn with blade and slings ordained not by any who Janus would have seen. Wonders were not known in this place, only the whispers of phantoms.

Flight from the breast of the slaughtered never marched step, step, step into the waters whose depth challenges Minerva to the limits of the Sibylline words. Rage, rage, rage ascends roaring in vainest vanity wandering in the deepest night unlit by torch or the light of Baal’s own flame. Mists follow those whose hunger is ravenous but has naught to satiate it. Within a sacred ire is alit to no avail. That metropolis which stands at the maw of the abyss gazes now and does no more to the messengers of slaughter who now cannot glut that which used to welcome them.

Earthen deities yield nothing and bare not what they might offer standing atop ramparts all their own that will not fall. Grizzled spirits that long to take what would be theirs are rebuffed without offerings of appeasement or the imperium that spits upon them from afar. Blazing lust wanton for the glory of triumph that so eludes them rising into the rocks and crags of crystal so far behind and lost in fog. A call comes from fools whose seething hearts now expose beating machinations that would demand that the storm return.

Slinking away the viper seeks a home that was never his and a place most accursed to the name Barka. Words, words, words wasted as the mighty immortal lightning in the storm calls now not as a cowed beast of burden, but the heir of the Sicilian Barcid. Silence follows him as within chambers that he beholds with eyes closed to the hobbled doves in flight the favored one longs for that which was his. A mirror opposite him departs as he does, both waiting now for that which will come for there is no choice.

After many days gone by with neither the risen armies of Romulus nor the cobbled wolves of Hamilcar’s heir having drawn together in the whirlwinds of slaughter the air grew still. Shrouded in the veil before dawn the one who carried the lash of Nemesis who would be called Africanus arose in quiet and descended alone into the gloom. His head turns toward Nox and his eyes are ablaze. “Hear me harbinger of the Parcae and answer me mistress of vengeance. By my name I damn those who stand across this field and invoke the imperium of Jove himself. If goddess, you be retribution true then I objure you to answer my call. The legions of the bane of mine approach. My oath against the Barcid sworn by the blood of my fathers and over my father’s blood you will fulfil. Lower them from where they stand on high and drag away their stormy shield. If you not be Just then descend now into the realm of Nox and there remain.”

The wizened one of the barbed wiles grayed and yet still sharpened upon the whetstone of Hamilcar’s knees surveyed the field eyes gazing into the slowly closing night. After a time, eyes closed, he faces the skies above the host of Africanus. “As that day of my ascent over the enemy and my bathing of your hands in their blood I bind you my god. If you truly, be he who those years ago placed into my hand these whose destruction I demanded then now you must do so again that your altar may drink again. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then death be upon your head.”

Arrayed across the unstained field the monsters charged horns upraised upon the violently trembling earth. From the midst of those who stand across clarion, clarion, clarion ring out smashing into the behemoths. They shake and shatter all do scatter driving aside those who upon horse’s back wheel in terror. Those were resplendent again are so as the two forces meet below even as the upper realm threatens to be sundered.

Looking glasses and mirrors aligned as all that is, is throughout the cosmos.

Above the winds lash and the lash strikes both warriors shouting and cursing as even the bodies of the divine begin to protest and bow. Ichor falling, falling, falling dropping into the earth where the Void reigns. Bolts striking out throw aside the Lady of Vengeance leaving even the primordial one burned by the storm. Back one step then two she goes as the same befalls the world beneath her sandaled feet. Even as to a knee she drops, and the standard of her strength appears lost she stands.

Dancing about her lash striking forth she draws first blood. Shattered bones elicit cries as Baal falls and no more stirs.

The one called Africanus stands with eyes alight as the farmer of Romulus’ land now waters the Punic fields. Run, run, run they flee escaping now broken. Eagle flying over the fallen high is aglow in the light of the fading day.

The sanctuary of Dido is fallen now with none to hold the foundations of the walls. Where before no might remained to the sons of Anaeus now they have slain Dido once more.

The son of the Barcid escapes the field upon his lips his bond unforgotten from the ambers that sputter within. Oath sewn onto his flesh he carries far and afield until at last he is found more wizened still. He knows what comes though he surrenders not to the hands that he damned and damned him in turn. Eyes turned up one last time as death trickles down his maw he stares on high.

“You who abandoned me to death this day know this as the gasping winds puff away into the depths of night. You were my god and also not my god from the rise of my father’s house both accursed and blessed to this the fall.”

The fading light flees a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes flicker yet somehow are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood, fulfilled in blood, and consecrated in blood.

See the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

​

Favored

“Son of my light, blessed of my hand, truth you will illuminate.”

— after a Baal inscription

 

Book I

The Favored

Speak now of the rage summoned down from the very spirit of the storms and given the form of men naked of the fear of Mars Ultor. Tell of the unsheathed swords which across the sea waged battle that Baal watched with illuminated eyes. Know of how the avenger himself lay bloodied in the hills where even Janus was blind and the songs of the sons of Romulus were dirges and laments. See the pact sealed in the name of a master and demanded of the bloodline of lightning. Drown in the visions as now they appear. Specters accusatory and blinded guide us.

Gaze down from on high and behold Sicilia as lifted mists reveal not the dance of steel, but that of a consecrated soul hiding in the crags. Armies drawn from lands shrouded in clouds spill ruby droplets that in a sea are lost and yet leave tracks starker than any beast of prey. Walls stricken repel the legions wandering from the embrace of Ceres into the jaws of the great leech of the Punic lands. Furrowed ground slowly watered at his hand echoes his name never cast to the ground by the power of Jove who on high to him bent a knee.

Hamilcar, girded to shatter the arms of Rome bound by the curse Plutus drew to himself not the fate of the fallen, but a vow that could not be sated. An altar bathed in wrath called for vengeance and the continuance of farming to cull the souls of those who resided on a river yet to be stained and dyed as surely as a sacrificial font. Side by side the elder and the one upon whom the master favors swore that Hypnos would bring no sleep to their eyes until as the fate of the city of Priam was the fate of the metropolis atop the seven hills. “Swear to me boy, before The Storm Lord, that you shall extract eternal vengeance. Swear or be lost to the abyss heir of mine dishonor.”

Youth not yet witness to torments with none but the love that only youth knows with hand caked in the gore of sacrifice splatted by a single blow speaks no words that his eyes do not announce. A different spirit is borne as the western land comes now to take the light of Carthage tarnished and whose glow was a single instant before buffeting winds came with endless shadow and tore him away.

In the darkness ascendent more than the deepest night a blinding beam raises one who grabs hold of the bolt in Jupiter’s own hand and joins it to his own flesh. On feet not more swift than those of Talos, but surer than Achilles he goes west to summon from all corners the messengers of his covenant with the ancestors of the conqueror of the eastern lands. Unyielding shields fell to his hands as Saguntum ascended in smoke tearing the sky asunder with no tears shed to the east.

There is nought to him, but a vision of the mountains capped in crystal. Juggernauts ascending into ice and frigid knives that as sure as hunger never-ending reap until into the fields of the cornucopia they arrive. Upon the banks of Ticinus flight, flight as the noble eagle fell and dropped into the dust before an onyx wave. Rushing and washing over bronze clad flesh swift slaughter came with Mars trembling on high.

Silence envelops the shouts of Bellona when fools gave chase in haste without knowing that no one so foolish as they confronted them in Trebia’s shadow. Doom sealed in haste empowered steps screeches, but none can hear it. Closer and closer they come now, weapons raised then comes the maw of the monster they thought to judge. Slamming shut with unforgiving violence it digs deeper than bone and sinew spilling the libations of their lord with rapturous delight. War mocked cannot even slink away in honor with might crushed underfoot.

In night flame betrays and draws surer than the bit draws the horse to its doom at the grave of the Trasimine. Shades racing the inferno within descend from the heights and the very power of the earth behind them drives them home true. Into the waters, into the waters, into the waters they go icy hands closing in around them and pulling them to the depths. Shell meant to drive away frigid steel now drives down legions to rest upon the bed of the river forevermore. In their thousands they are no more with few enough carried in shackles and disgrace to declare destruction the name of this day.

Resplendent, they march in their armored legions, both human and divine onto a once silent field they have never had revealed to them neither by the augurs and their omens nor by the fleet of foot sent ahead. Come they did, chasing away the flies of the Punic warlord that whispered in their ears and bronzed the eyes of the godly troops. For days the time was not right to smite the enemy and so they did not come forth to strike out and lash the enemy. Three camps two below and one above tensely buzzing with barely concealed restraint. Lust burns hotly in veins desirous of blood more than anything else in the mortal plane. Silence waits in the wings ready to break and escape if the order is given.

Soon the battle will come knows he who used his barbed whip of wiles to ignite the path to this path. The night before he will call forth the restraints upon his foe that he may cast them into a pit without end he steps out alone. Surrounded by nought, but the edges of his slaughterers he closes his eyes and turns his face upward. “My master to you I call. I have bled in your name and brought forth slaughter on account of your name. My oath binds you my master. The enemy draws with their host near to destroy your name. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then flee and allow the bolt of lightning to set this land ablaze!”

He spread across the land facing the enemy drawing them close his words hanging as surely as the swarming murder that flew up above. Onward came the blinded and the unknowingly blessed while above the winds began to stir. On the ground below the unbeaten began to buckle as cries rang out from the lords of the Tiber. Iron holds them firm, but fury is a relentless slaver whose hand will not be stayed.

One step, two steps, and then three as into the beating heart of the monster they march certainty painting their blades until a single cawing raven’s cry opens up the gates where only the damned may go. Teeth of iron sink in deep as on all sides as a screaming is heard which rends even the hearts of those who had cried in rage. Agony, agony, conflagration licking with the greatest hunger as all are grasped and thrashed about the uncaring field. The stench of butchery flies truer than any arrow saturating every mind and piercing all flesh.

In the heights hammer blows of the winds toss the host of Jove, Mars, Bellona, and Minerva aside with the crunch of bones shattering. These commanders limp and are smitten with bolts that no longer reside on high in Jove’s hands. Smoldering armor aglow in the darkness that blots out the vision of those who called themselves the masters of this land. Primordial weapons fall away forgotten as long before those below have finished crying out, those above retreat to the edges of the realm. Chariots reduced to slag and cinder gust away to chase the cowards who refused to hold against a single warrior.

Upon the earth, smashed legions are reduced to fragments heaped so that the dead stumble as they are swallowed by a rest that will not end. Damned living and those who are dying tangle in a final dance. Decimation marches out among the souls upon the field uprooting all until its tunic is drenched and splattered and the eyes of all have rested upon a visage skillfully and yet obscenely carved from the stuff of oblivion itself.

Time meaningless and worthless leaves the day ended as a glut for the earth and carrion whom Baal’s chosen has gathered. There will be no cleansing now or ever as the fading light encircles a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood fulfilled in blood and see the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

\* \* \*

 

Book II

The Unbound

Summoned hosts that see not and know not that curse which descended and was levied upon ones who were so bound, be drowned so as to walk the path of revelations. Tongues unsheathed speak now of the descent which was a brand cast as dying embers onto realms reclaimed from the hands of those whose fear was slaughtered upon the altar that so mocked Ultor. Learn of the second who arose by vow blade bare and dripping with vengeance and a rage that not even the depths of the Rubicon can ever cool or cleanse.

Unseeing ones perceive the lands Romulus from afar through mists long gone from the vision of a bent man once sovereign over the chains Mors and the bolt of Jove. The jaws of iron and steel smashing down transforming the ethereal into the maw of some horrific hound left behind nothing but the entrails rotting for swarms to swoop down and take. Shockwaves shake the land as the maelstrom swirls with the favored one aglow with eternity standing at his back and a hall of crimson and splintered bone without clear end before him.

Gathered hosts from the skies above and the shadowed realms are as a pestilence upon the consecrated temple. Its priest marches forth with phantoms at his side. That service of unending slaughter lacks the offal of the seven hills the Ceres so desires. Her favor points the way to the Tiber though the prince crowned by the mantle of Jove soaks in the gore that seeped into the bones of Terra blessing her without the ceremonies of prophets who had failed to peer into the mind of the holder of Bellona’s own spear which had fallen. His steps are astride the Earth mother but leave not from this kiln blasted field.

Hour, hour, hour taking flight of its own when the mighty one does not and the hosts gathered from the expanse of the heavens allow the cornucopia to sate them not with the flesh of their enemies, but the bosom of the earth. Those powers which guided them through the Aether call out in the night and disturb the dreams to no avail. Screaming clarions do not rouse them and the sheep of the seven hills rose not to flee into the desert hewn with blade and slings ordained not by any who Janus would have seen. Wonders were not known in this place, only the whispers of phantoms.

Flight from the breast of the slaughtered never marched step, step, step into the waters whose depth challenges Minerva to the limits of the Sibylline words. Rage, rage, rage ascends roaring in vainest vanity wandering in the deepest night unlit by torch or the light of Baal’s own flame. Mists follow those whose hunger is ravenous but has naught to satiate it. Within a sacred ire is alit to no avail. That metropolis which stands at the maw of the abyss gazes now and does no more to the messengers of slaughter who now cannot glut that which used to welcome them.

Earthen deities yield nothing and bare not what they might offer standing atop ramparts all their own that will not fall. Grizzled spirits that long to take what would be theirs are rebuffed without offerings of appeasement or the imperium that spits upon them from afar. Blazing lust wanton for the glory of triumph that so eludes them rising into the rocks and crags of crystal so far behind and lost in fog. A call comes from fools whose seething hearts now expose beating machinations that would demand that the storm return.

Slinking away the viper seeks a home that was never his and a place most accursed to the name Barka. Words, words, words wasted as the mighty immortal lightning in the storm calls now not as a cowed beast of burden, but the heir of the Sicilian Barcid. Silence follows him as within chambers that he beholds with eyes closed to the hobbled doves in flight the favored one longs for that which was his. A mirror opposite him departs as he does, both waiting now for that which will come for there is no choice.

After many days gone by with neither the risen armies of Romulus nor the cobbled wolves of Hamilcar’s heir having drawn together in the whirlwinds of slaughter the air grew still. Shrouded in the veil before dawn the one who carried the lash of Nemesis who would be called Africanus arose in quiet and descended alone into the gloom. His head turns toward Nox and his eyes are ablaze. “Hear me harbinger of the Parcae and answer me mistress of vengeance. By my name I damn those who stand across this field and invoke the imperium of Jove himself. If goddess, you be retribution true then I objure you to answer my call. The legions of the bane of mine approach. My oath against the Barcid sworn by the blood of my fathers and over my father’s blood you will fulfil. Lower them from where they stand on high and drag away their stormy shield. If you not be Just then descend now into the realm of Nox and there remain.”

The wizened one of the barbed wiles grayed and yet still sharpened upon the whetstone of Hamilcar’s knees surveyed the field eyes gazing into the slowly closing night. After a time, eyes closed, he faces the skies above the host of Africanus. “As that day of my ascent over the enemy and my bathing of your hands in their blood I bind you my god. If you truly, be he who those years ago placed into my hand these whose destruction I demanded then now you must do so again that your altar may drink again. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then death be upon your head.”

Arrayed across the unstained field the monsters charged horns upraised upon the violently trembling earth. From the midst of those who stand across clarion, clarion, clarion ring out smashing into the behemoths. They shake and shatter all do scatter driving aside those who upon horse’s back wheel in terror. Those were resplendent again are so as the two forces meet below even as the upper realm threatens to be sundered.

Looking glasses and mirrors aligned as all that is, is throughout the cosmos.

Above the winds lash and the lash strikes both warriors shouting and cursing as even the bodies of the divine begin to protest and bow. Ichor falling, falling, falling dropping into the earth where the Void reigns. Bolts striking out throw aside the Lady of Vengeance leaving even the primordial one burned by the storm. Back one step then two she goes as the same befalls the world beneath her sandaled feet. Even as to a knee she drops, and the standard of her strength appears lost she stands.

Dancing about her lash striking forth she draws first blood. Shattered bones elicit cries as Baal falls and no more stirs.

The one called Africanus stands with eyes alight as the farmer of Romulus’ land now waters the Punic fields. Run, run, run they flee escaping now broken. Eagle flying over the fallen high is aglow in the light of the fading day.

The sanctuary of Dido is fallen now with none to hold the foundations of the walls. Where before no might remained to the sons of Anaeus now they have slain Dido once more.

The son of the Barcid escapes the field upon his lips his bond unforgotten from the ambers that sputter within. Oath sewn onto his flesh he carries far and afield until at last he is found more wizened still. He knows what comes though he surrenders not to the hands that he damned and damned him in turn. Eyes turned up one last time as death trickles down his maw he stares on high.

“You who abandoned me to death this day know this as the gasping winds puff away into the depths of night. You were my god and also not my god from the rise of my father’s house both accursed and blessed to this the fall.”

The fading light flees a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes flicker yet somehow are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood, fulfilled in blood, and consecrated in blood.

See the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

Favored

“Son of my light, blessed of my hand, truth you will illuminate.”

— after a Baal inscription

 

Book I

The Favored

Speak now of the rage summoned down from the very spirit of the storms and given the form of men naked of the fear of Mars Ultor. Tell of the unsheathed swords which across the sea waged battle that Baal watched with illuminated eyes. Know of how the avenger himself lay bloodied in the hills where even Janus was blind and the songs of the sons of Romulus were dirges and laments. See the pact sealed in the name of a master and demanded of the bloodline of lightning. Drown in the visions as now they appear. Specters accusatory and blinded guide us.

Gaze down from on high and behold Sicilia as lifted mists reveal not the dance of steel, but that of a consecrated soul hiding in the crags. Armies drawn from lands shrouded in clouds spill ruby droplets that in a sea are lost and yet leave tracks starker than any beast of prey. Walls stricken repel the legions wandering from the embrace of Ceres into the jaws of the great leech of the Punic lands. Furrowed ground slowly watered at his hand echoes his name never cast to the ground by the power of Jove who on high to him bent a knee.

Hamilcar, girded to shatter the arms of Rome bound by the curse Plutus drew to himself not the fate of the fallen, but a vow that could not be sated. An altar bathed in wrath called for vengeance and the continuance of farming to cull the souls of those who resided on a river yet to be stained and dyed as surely as a sacrificial font. Side by side the elder and the one upon whom the master favors swore that Hypnos would bring no sleep to their eyes until as the fate of the city of Priam was the fate of the metropolis atop the seven hills. “Swear to me boy, before The Storm Lord, that you shall extract eternal vengeance. Swear or be lost to the abyss heir of mine dishonor.”

Youth not yet witness to torments with none but the love that only youth knows with hand caked in the gore of sacrifice splatted by a single blow speaks no words that his eyes do not announce. A different spirit is borne as the western land comes now to take the light of Carthage tarnished and whose glow was a single instant before buffeting winds came with endless shadow and tore him away.

In the darkness ascendent more than the deepest night a blinding beam raises one who grabs hold of the bolt in Jupiter’s own hand and joins it to his own flesh. On feet not more swift than those of Talos, but surer than Achilles he goes west to summon from all corners the messengers of his covenant with the ancestors of the conqueror of the eastern lands. Unyielding shields fell to his hands as Saguntum ascended in smoke tearing the sky asunder with no tears shed to the east.

There is nought to him, but a vision of the mountains capped in crystal. Juggernauts ascending into ice and frigid knives that as sure as hunger never-ending reap until into the fields of the cornucopia they arrive. Upon the banks of Ticinus flight, flight as the noble eagle fell and dropped into the dust before an onyx wave. Rushing and washing over bronze clad flesh swift slaughter came with Mars trembling on high.

Silence envelops the shouts of Bellona when fools gave chase in haste without knowing that no one so foolish as they confronted them in Trebia’s shadow. Doom sealed in haste empowered steps screeches, but none can hear it. Closer and closer they come now, weapons raised then comes the maw of the monster they thought to judge. Slamming shut with unforgiving violence it digs deeper than bone and sinew spilling the libations of their lord with rapturous delight. War mocked cannot even slink away in honor with might crushed underfoot.

In night flame betrays and draws surer than the bit draws the horse to its doom at the grave of the Trasimine. Shades racing the inferno within descend from the heights and the very power of the earth behind them drives them home true. Into the waters, into the waters, into the waters they go icy hands closing in around them and pulling them to the depths. Shell meant to drive away frigid steel now drives down legions to rest upon the bed of the river forevermore. In their thousands they are no more with few enough carried in shackles and disgrace to declare destruction the name of this day.

Resplendent, they march in their armored legions, both human and divine onto a once silent field they have never had revealed to them neither by the augurs and their omens nor by the fleet of foot sent ahead. Come they did, chasing away the flies of the Punic warlord that whispered in their ears and bronzed the eyes of the godly troops. For days the time was not right to smite the enemy and so they did not come forth to strike out and lash the enemy. Three camps two below and one above tensely buzzing with barely concealed restraint. Lust burns hotly in veins desirous of blood more than anything else in the mortal plane. Silence waits in the wings ready to break and escape if the order is given.

Soon the battle will come knows he who used his barbed whip of wiles to ignite the path to this path. The night before he will call forth the restraints upon his foe that he may cast them into a pit without end he steps out alone. Surrounded by nought, but the edges of his slaughterers he closes his eyes and turns his face upward. “My master to you I call. I have bled in your name and brought forth slaughter on account of your name. My oath binds you my master. The enemy draws with their host near to destroy your name. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then flee and allow the bolt of lightning to set this land ablaze!”

He spread across the land facing the enemy drawing them close his words hanging as surely as the swarming murder that flew up above. Onward came the blinded and the unknowingly blessed while above the winds began to stir. On the ground below the unbeaten began to buckle as cries rang out from the lords of the Tiber. Iron holds them firm, but fury is a relentless slaver whose hand will not be stayed.

One step, two steps, and then three as into the beating heart of the monster they march certainty painting their blades until a single cawing raven’s cry opens up the gates where only the damned may go. Teeth of iron sink in deep as on all sides as a screaming is heard which rends even the hearts of those who had cried in rage. Agony, agony, conflagration licking with the greatest hunger as all are grasped and thrashed about the uncaring field. The stench of butchery flies truer than any arrow saturating every mind and piercing all flesh.

In the heights hammer blows of the winds toss the host of Jove, Mars, Bellona, and Minerva aside with the crunch of bones shattering. These commanders limp and are smitten with bolts that no longer reside on high in Jove’s hands. Smoldering armor aglow in the darkness that blots out the vision of those who called themselves the masters of this land. Primordial weapons fall away forgotten as long before those below have finished crying out, those above retreat to the edges of the realm. Chariots reduced to slag and cinder gust away to chase the cowards who refused to hold against a single warrior.

Upon the earth, smashed legions are reduced to fragments heaped so that the dead stumble as they are swallowed by a rest that will not end. Damned living and those who are dying tangle in a final dance. Decimation marches out among the souls upon the field uprooting all until its tunic is drenched and splattered and the eyes of all have rested upon a visage skillfully and yet obscenely carved from the stuff of oblivion itself.

Time meaningless and worthless leaves the day ended as a glut for the earth and carrion whom Baal’s chosen has gathered. There will be no cleansing now or ever as the fading light encircles a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood fulfilled in blood and see the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.

* * *

 

Book II

The Unbound

Summoned hosts that see not and know not that curse which descended and was levied upon ones who were so bound, be drowned so as to walk the path of revelations. Tongues unsheathed speak now of the descent which was a brand cast as dying embers onto realms reclaimed from the hands of those whose fear was slaughtered upon the altar that so mocked Ultor. Learn of the second who arose by vow blade bare and dripping with vengeance and a rage that not even the depths of the Rubicon can ever cool or cleanse.

Unseeing ones perceive the lands Romulus from afar through mists long gone from the vision of a bent man once sovereign over the chains Mors and the bolt of Jove. The jaws of iron and steel smashing down transforming the ethereal into the maw of some horrific hound left behind nothing but the entrails rotting for swarms to swoop down and take. Shockwaves shake the land as the maelstrom swirls with the favored one aglow with eternity standing at his back and a hall of crimson and splintered bone without clear end before him.

Gathered hosts from the skies above and the shadowed realms are as a pestilence upon the consecrated temple. Its priest marches forth with phantoms at his side. That service of unending slaughter lacks the offal of the seven hills the Ceres so desires. Her favor points the way to the Tiber though the prince crowned by the mantle of Jove soaks in the gore that seeped into the bones of Terra blessing her without the ceremonies of prophets who had failed to peer into the mind of the holder of Bellona’s own spear which had fallen. His steps are astride the Earth mother but leave not from this kiln blasted field.

Hour, hour, hour taking flight of its own when the mighty one does not and the hosts gathered from the expanse of the heavens allow the cornucopia to sate them not with the flesh of their enemies, but the bosom of the earth. Those powers which guided them through the Aether call out in the night and disturb the dreams to no avail. Screaming clarions do not rouse them and the sheep of the seven hills rose not to flee into the desert hewn with blade and slings ordained not by any who Janus would have seen. Wonders were not known in this place, only the whispers of phantoms.

Flight from the breast of the slaughtered never marched step, step, step into the waters whose depth challenges Minerva to the limits of the Sibylline words. Rage, rage, rage ascends roaring in vainest vanity wandering in the deepest night unlit by torch or the light of Baal’s own flame. Mists follow those whose hunger is ravenous but has naught to satiate it. Within a sacred ire is alit to no avail. That metropolis which stands at the maw of the abyss gazes now and does no more to the messengers of slaughter who now cannot glut that which used to welcome them.

Earthen deities yield nothing and bare not what they might offer standing atop ramparts all their own that will not fall. Grizzled spirits that long to take what would be theirs are rebuffed without offerings of appeasement or the imperium that spits upon them from afar. Blazing lust wanton for the glory of triumph that so eludes them rising into the rocks and crags of crystal so far behind and lost in fog. A call comes from fools whose seething hearts now expose beating machinations that would demand that the storm return.

Slinking away the viper seeks a home that was never his and a place most accursed to the name Barka. Words, words, words wasted as the mighty immortal lightning in the storm calls now not as a cowed beast of burden, but the heir of the Sicilian Barcid. Silence follows him as within chambers that he beholds with eyes closed to the hobbled doves in flight the favored one longs for that which was his. A mirror opposite him departs as he does, both waiting now for that which will come for there is no choice.

After many days gone by with neither the risen armies of Romulus nor the cobbled wolves of Hamilcar’s heir having drawn together in the whirlwinds of slaughter the air grew still. Shrouded in the veil before dawn the one who carried the lash of Nemesis who would be called Africanus arose in quiet and descended alone into the gloom. His head turns toward Nox and his eyes are ablaze. “Hear me harbinger of the Parcae and answer me mistress of vengeance. By my name I damn those who stand across this field and invoke the imperium of Jove himself. If goddess, you be retribution true then I objure you to answer my call. The legions of the bane of mine approach. My oath against the Barcid sworn by the blood of my fathers and over my father’s blood you will fulfil. Lower them from where they stand on high and drag away their stormy shield. If you not be Just then descend now into the realm of Nox and there remain.”

The wizened one of the barbed wiles grayed and yet still sharpened upon the whetstone of Hamilcar’s knees surveyed the field eyes gazing into the slowly closing night. After a time, eyes closed, he faces the skies above the host of Africanus. “As that day of my ascent over the enemy and my bathing of your hands in their blood I bind you my god. If you truly, be he who those years ago placed into my hand these whose destruction I demanded then now you must do so again that your altar may drink again. If you be Baal give me the power this last time to smash them and brand upon this land your name. If you are not the god of my father by whom I swore to allow the land to become drunk until it is glutted, then death be upon your head.”

Arrayed across the unstained field the monsters charged horns upraised upon the violently trembling earth. From the midst of those who stand across clarion, clarion, clarion ring out smashing into the behemoths. They shake and shatter all do scatter driving aside those who upon horse’s back wheel in terror. Those were resplendent again are so as the two forces meet below even as the upper realm threatens to be sundered.

Looking glasses and mirrors aligned as all that is, is throughout the cosmos.

Above the winds lash and the lash strikes both warriors shouting and cursing as even the bodies of the divine begin to protest and bow. Ichor falling, falling, falling dropping into the earth where the Void reigns. Bolts striking out throw aside the Lady of Vengeance leaving even the primordial one burned by the storm. Back one step then two she goes as the same befalls the world beneath her sandaled feet. Even as to a knee she drops, and the standard of her strength appears lost she stands.

Dancing about her lash striking forth she draws first blood. Shattered bones elicit cries as Baal falls and no more stirs.

The one called Africanus stands with eyes alight as the farmer of Romulus’ land now waters the Punic fields. Run, run, run they flee escaping now broken. Eagle flying over the fallen high is aglow in the light of the fading day.

The sanctuary of Dido is fallen now with none to hold the foundations of the walls. Where before no might remained to the sons of Anaeus now they have slain Dido once more.

The son of the Barcid escapes the field upon his lips his bond unforgotten from the ambers that sputter within. Oath sewn onto his flesh he carries far and afield until at last he is found more wizened still. He knows what comes though he surrenders not to the hands that he damned and damned him in turn. Eyes turned up one last time as death trickles down his maw he stares on high.

“You who abandoned me to death this day know this as the gasping winds puff away into the depths of night. You were my god and also not my god from the rise of my father’s house both accursed and blessed to this the fall.”

The fading light flees a single figure illuminated eternally in the darkness of the storm. His eyes flicker yet somehow are alight as no mortal being’s should be with a flame not quite fire more like a power stolen for him alone from heights unseen.

Behold the word sealed in blood, fulfilled in blood, and consecrated in blood.

See the favored of Baal’s blessing so accursed.