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Before that he had been the son of the King, after - he was the
One year, for one year he had begged, pleaded, commanded, demanded that his father, King Hamilcar,
take him to war. His father denied him again and again. Now, the day had come. He was dressed in a
white robe, standing in an alcove of stone cut into the side of the tunnel. Chanting reverberated down
the corridor, the light of the flames flickered, and he remembered the oath that he had made.
It had been a month ago, in Valencia, in another sacrificial chamber. His father was leading him to
make a sacrifice to Ba'al, the bringer of storms. The war with Rome had been settled, but there were
other battles to fight, other lands, and cities, and peoples to conquer and bring into the fold of the
Carthaginian Empire. His father was war hardened and tested by battle, and he didn't like to be tested
by a child. "I should go with you on your next campaign." It was a simple statement he had made many
His father had turned on him in the tunnel and pushed him up against the wall. He stared up into his
father's eyes and saw only blackness. His father didn't say a word. He grabbed him by the back of the
shirt and pushed him into the chamber where the priests were waiting. A fire of coals were burning red
hot in the center and his father pushed him to it. The heat was uncomfortable even from a distance, like
waves surging through the air. His father grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pushed it down
until he could feel his skin drying out, and smell his hair being incinerated. The King brought his face
"War means having enemies, and having enemies means that you must have friends. Swear to me,
swear to me on your life, swear to me before God Ba'al, swear to your father, swear to your King,
or I am dead."
His father hadn't blinked, or said a word. He had let go of his shirt and nodded towards the tunnel. It
was the next day, from a priest, that he had learned about his father's decision. An oath was acceptable
to the King, but Ba'al would require something more. The sacrificial ceremony was to be held in a
month.
Now, here they were. Around the corner was the chamber. The chanting was rising. Ba'al required a
great sacrifice to crown a destroyer of empires, to arrest the destiny of Rome, and a great sacrifice had
been made. He had committed his entire future to this one purpose, but that was not enough. One
thousand children had been brought from Iberia. Captives of battle. Their futures, too, had been
sacrificed. It took two days. They had been taken and put under temporary watch near the entrance to
the chamber. Wooden pens had been erected. An entire brigade had been ordered to guard and prepare
them.
Large clay jars had been brought. Then the soldiers and priests had begun their work. The key was to
work quickly. The legs and arms were bound. The child would be led to the jar, bent over it, and the
head pulled back. Two soldiers would hold him, or her, and the third would cut the throat. The screams
turned to gargles, and the gargles turned to nothing. The bodies were loaded onto wagons and taken to a
pit. It took ten children to fill a jar. As soon as one had been filled a priest stepped in, poured in alcohol,
and said a blessing. The jar was sealed and taken to the chamber. At night torches had been lit and the
work continued.
Now, all of those jars were empty, and the pool was full.
Breathe and step, breathe and step. Let the chant set the pace. The corridor smelled of dust, fire, and
blood. Breathe and step, breathe and step. The torches flickered as he moved past them. A bed of coals
was just on the right as he entered the chamber. He slid his robe off and threw it into the fire. He would
enter the baptism of Ba'al with nothing, and emerge as something else. The white robe broke into
His father, King Hamilcar, stood on the other side of the pool. Priests were ringed around either side.
Three steps, there were only three steps to ascend to the top. The blood was thick and dark, he could
smell it in his throat. The rhythmic chanting carried him forward. Breathe and step, breathe and step,
He looked into his father's eyes, black, and dropped into the blood. The blood slopped back and forth in
the pool, dripped down the side and spread out upon the floor. It was warm, and thick, like smooth
honey. He turned around and the chanting stopped. Only the flickering of the flames from the robe
disturbed the silence. He stared at the entrance to the chamber, but saw nothing. He was thinking of the
stories. The stories from the war. Rome had brought their legions down upon his father's empire, but
that wasn't going to be the final story. There would be another. His story, a story of fire and steel
brought down upon Rome, over and over and over, until nothing was left.
He raised his right hand out to the side, two fingers pointed up and his thumb pointed towards himself.
He said one word, "Ba'al." Take a breathe and hold. He had to kneel, then bend forward, to fully
submerge himself in the blood. Blood is different than water, blood pushes in on you, envelopes you
and embraces you, like a cacoon. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. He waited.
It was faint at first, but then it grew. The priests were chanting. He slowly began to unfold himself, to
reemerge from the baptism. He had to wipe the blood from his nose before he could breathe again. And
from his eyes before he could open them. He felt different. The chamber seemed brighter. The blood
A priest was kneeling at the bottom of the stairs, his head bent, and a sword held across his hands.
He pushed himself out of the pool and heard blood slop onto the floor, meandering its way down the
steps in front of him. The other priests were chanting, and the chanting was growing louder, echoing off
the walls, filling him with power. He could feel it swelling in his chest. At the bottom of the stairs he
reached down and took the sword by the handle. The priest moved back to his spot and took up the
He waited, standing, as the chanting slowed and faded. Then, silence, the crackle of the flames. Blood
ran down his arm and onto the sword. The King spoke from the back of the chamber.