The forest ended in a marsh of tall reeds. The fleet spent a night harbored in these shallows, struggling to find enough dry land for their tents.

  The wetlands continued along the shore the next day. Artemisia located a sandbar wide enough for the fleet to make camp, but Liva wanted to go further inland.

  “You want to get stuck in the mud, go right ahead,” the helmsman suggested.

  “The water’s deep enough. Can’t we go further? We might find all sorts of creatures in the swamps.”

  “Or run aground. And I don’t see any friendly trees willing to repair us.”

  Hanno peered at the horizon.

  “There’s still daylight, Helmsman. Offload the lower two rows of oarsmen and have them make camp. We should be light enough to skirt the shallows,” Hanno said.

  “Can I get off too?” Artemisia asked.

  “Hanno tames the land, he tames the sea, and brings them together where ‘ere he may be!” Mapen sang.

  “Hold the congratulations until we’ve traveled, Mapen,” Hanno cautioned.

  With the ship lightened, they rowed into the shallows. The reeds grew taller and taller, until Hanno imagined another tree was carrying the ship upon dry ground. But it was the mud-swirling smack of the oars propelling them slowly across the swamps.

  A trumpet sound called all to the starboard rail, where a herd of elephants splashed against the reeds.

  Cranes strode across the water, hunting muddy fish. Frogs leapt from leaf to leaf, and a herd of gazelles bounded into the horizon on a patch of widening grass.

  “The land south of Solois truly is magical,” Liva marveled.

  “This is the work of Baal Hammon. Unless there is some other god shaping these southern lands?” Aba wondered.

  “There are many gods in the south. Every village has one, I’ve heard. There’s a story of a frog-king, an elephant that once was a man but became a beast so he could lead the tribe of animals, and a lion with wings worshipped by many kings, all of which name him after themselves.”

  “Just tell me where the rocks are,” Artemisia said.

  The trireme shuddered with a sudden impact, and a hippo sprang to life against the side of the ship.

  “Even the rocks are alive in your country, Liva!” Hanno laughed.

  The hippopotamus splashed its displeasure, and widened its four-toothed maw toward the ship.

  Bostar strung an arrow.

  “Do you want a trophy, King?” Bostar asked.

  Hanno looked to the amber seed on his bow horn, and shook his head.

  “We have trophies enough at Carthage. We’re here to find homes,” Hanno said.

  “And gold, I remember you promising that,” Artemisia noted.

  “Yes. But it appears neither are here. The water grows shallower. Let’s return to camp.”

  The fleet left the marshlands the next day. Abundant springs that fed the northern swamps traversed wide fields scattered with grass and trees. Flat beaches stretched as far as the eye could see, with gentle hills rolling further across the landward horizon.

  They traveled half a day’s journey beyond this open ground, sailing quickly to scout the unchanging terrain. It seemed suitable, protected, and lush.

  “Name the god of your winged lion, whatever you wish to call him, Liva,” Hanno announced late in the morning.

  “All the kings name him after themselves,” Liva reminded him.

  “Then I name him Melqart. For both must be here, and they’ve blessed us. Helmsman, we sup our midday meal upon the shores of a new city. Signal the landing.”

  The pipes played out the call to beach the ships.

  Hanno’s was first to shore. The king leapt to the sand and placed his hand upon the nearby grassy dirt. It smelled musky and wet, lacking the salt such coastal lands typically bore.

   “Fertile soil,” Hanno announced.

  Bostar landed in the grass beside his king, along with Liva.

  “Bostar, gather half a dozen marines and join me in a scouting mission. If this is to be our new city, we should map the terrain,” Hanno ordered.

  “I’ve been here before. There’s a nomadic camp about a week’s journey inland,” Liva shared.

  “Berbers?” Bostar asked.

  “What’s a Berber?”

  “Bostar refers to a more hostile type of nomad,” Hanno clarified.

  “They’re only hostile to gazelles.”

  “Still. Best to arm ourselves. Artemisia, oversee the landing. Inform the helmsmen they are to map out a settlement here and await our return,” Hanno called out to the Greek.

  Artemisia merely nodded in confirmation.

  While the fleet cheered its approach to the soft shores, Hanno led his team into the grassy fields.

  Bostar kept his bow ready. He’d selected Barca to join them, and the marine marched with his fellows, all wielding javelins, spears, and swords.

  “Too bad we can’t tame those elephants we saw in the reeds. Perhaps they’ll travel here one day. Perhaps we’ll have breeders to rival Carthage’s stocks,” Hanno said.

  “You breed elephants?” Liva asked.

  “We breed and ride elephants. We mount them in battle and crush our enemies.”

  “You fight atop elephants? I’ve seen two bulls in combat but never with riders!”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “The enemy does not have elephants.”

  “Your warriors must be impossible to defeat!”

  Hanno frowned.

  “Would that it be so,” he said.

  “How many elephants?” Liva asked.

  “My father led an army with a hundred elephants.”

  “A hundred!”

  “And fifty thousand men.”

  Liva stopped. “Fifty thousand warriors?”

  “Plus five thousand cavalry,” Bostar added.

  “Not to mention the navy,” said Barca.

  Liva gaped. She shook her head.

  “I cannot picture such a thing,” she said.

  “We have near that many with our fleet,” Hanno noted.

  “But not warriors. You’re like nomads, traveling with children and food, not warriors alone.”

  “It’s called an army. Did you not hear Mapen’s songs?”

  “I thought they were myths. What do you need an army for?”

  “To fight other armies.”

  “There are more?”

  “Enemies of Carthage. That’s why we’ve come here. Our enemies drove us from the lands we sought.”

  Liva furrowed her brow.

  “Africa is your lesser option?” she asked.

  Hanno knelt low at the sound of shifting grass.

  Liva crouched not a moment after, her eyes wide and her ears tilted with the wind.

  Hanno motioned for Bostar, and they crept forward.

  After a few paces, they found a clearing. A spring trickled out from a gap in a rocky outcrop. Antelope chortled in the watering hole, but Hanno did not ease his tensed arms.

  Instead, he searched the grasses, sniffing deep and quiet as he could. Hanno held out a hand, and Barca offered him a javelin.

  Bostar spotted it just before the king. A low set of eyes set against the tall grass beyond the spring. Its golden fur near blended in with the terrain, but when it shifted its mighty haunches, Hanno saw it plainly.

  The lioness launched herself at the antelope.

  Hanno signaled the others with his free hand palm down while the predator spun about to close on the fleeing prey.

  The king made a fist.

  Bostar fired his bow and the men of Carthage hurled their javelins. The lioness shrieked and fell, impaled to the ground. It kicked and growled, and the king ran forward with his sword drawn.

  Hanno plunged the blade into the lioness’s throat, and the beast stilled.

  The king freed his sword and scanned the terrain. When he spotted no further danger, he raised his weapons and said, “A fine kill, men of Carthage!”

  The marines and Bostar cheered.

  Liva stayed quiet.

  They tied the lioness to the marines’ spears and set them on their shoulders. Bostar had killed one of the slower antelopes, and the men laughed about their upcoming meal of hunter and hunted.

  Liva stayed silent the whole time they cleaned the beasts.

  “There is no word that means army in the languages of the peoples of the south,” Liva announced when they began their journey back to the coast.

  Hanno stopped.

  “Nowhere near fifty thousand men, and not as many elephants,” Liva added.

  “That’s good,” Hanno said, and resumed walking. “Battling to make our colonies would frustrate the mission.”

  “Is that what you came here to do? To give battle?”

  “I told you. We came to found colonies.”

  “And what happens if you find a land that refuses you?”

  “Depends on the land.”

  Liva frowned.

  The sun had nearly set when they returned from the hunt. When the colonists saw their king returning with a lioness, they let out a cheer.

  “People of Carthage! The land opens its bounty to us. There are fertile fields, fresh springs, and as you can see, game aplenty!” Hanno announced to the gathered men and women.

  They cheered.

  “Let this be a new city then. I name it Caricus Murus, for the lion we killed in its conquest like the lions of legend in ancient Caria. Let this be a new Caria then, and let us protect it well,” Hanno proclaimed.

  “Caricus Murus! Caricus Murus! Caricus Murus!” the cheer went out.

  More scouting parties returned with their bounty. Hundreds of fires licked the meat turning over their glow, sweetened with berries collected from the clusters of tree and brush. The feast of the new city lasted long, and the people ate and drank well.

  Those on sentry maintained their posts, and were rotated at quicker intervals, despite Liva’s assurances that nothing alive save the lions threatened their presence.

*****

  After depositing a suitable number of colonists to sustain the city’s founding, and leaving a pair of triremes behind in case there came a need for a sudden flight, Hanno led his fleet further south.

  So fertile was the land and so fast and unbroken their progress that they looked for a spot to beach their ships long before the sun set.

  Just fifty miles south, Liva spotted a gathered herd of wild cattle grazing in sight of the shallows. The beasts made no effort to depart their coastal grasses, and made no notice of the Libyphoenicians fast-marching around them until fence posts had been hammered in.

  “A new bull of Carthage!” Hanno announced when the pen was finished. “Let this city be called Gytta then, for the cattle it provides.”

  Liva did not share in the colonists’ cheers.

*****

  Caught up in planning the limits of Gytta with his helmsmen and advisors, Hanno didn’t notice Liva had been missing. Only when they prepared to set out the next day did she arrive at the beach.

  Once again, the grass-edged coast continued. Hanno watched it progress into the horizon from his post at the trireme’s stern.

  “How much further do you think such prominent positions will continue?” Hanno asked.

  “This has been nomadic land as far back as the stories go,” Liva answered.

  “No cities? No people?”

  “Not here. These are wandering lands. There is always food to find if one moves on.”

  “So why don’t they plant anything?” Artemisia asked.

  Liva shrugged. “Why plant if there is more to be found elsewhere?”

  “Barbarian nonsense.”

  “Now hold your Greek tongue, Helmsman,” Hanno warned. “We have much to learn from these people. After all, they came here first. Perhaps they will point out these foods to us, and we can plant them.”

  Liva smiled.

  “Still, if there are nomads, that inevitably leads to envy around crops. Perhaps a more defensive settlement should be constructed,” Hanno said. “There, on that promontory. A good sight for another Tyre, eh Bostar?”

  “The nomads won’t attack anyone,” Liva assured the king.

  “You’ve spoken to them all?”

  “I… I’ve spoken to most of them.”

  “And do you think they might harm any of my people?”

  Liva bit her lip.

  “I will not allow that. You will not be the only one to be in awe of Carthage when we are done here, Liva,” Hanno vowed.

  Liva stomped her foot. “I am growing less and less in awe of you, Hanno,” she said.

  They landed on the promontory, adjacent to a suitable outcropping of stones. Masons set to work immediately, cutting blocks while the marines chopped makeshift planks for a palisade.

  The helmsmen selected fewer people to settle this site, and allowed volunteers from the marines, along with veterans, to stay and found the colony.

  By the end of the first day, a single tower loomed over the promontory, higher than the abundant fig trees. The settlers laid the foundations for several more.

  Hanno climbed the tower and held aloft a torch so the people could see him in the twilight. Bostar stood beside him.

  “The soils of Africa part for our seeds!” Hanno shouted.

  The people laughed.

  “If Melqart still guides us, this shall be the middle point for our new cities. It shall be the hammered nail that supports the framework of our colonies. I name it Akra! This fortress shall defend our people against any who dare question the might of Carthage!” Hanno proclaimed.

  The people cheered.

  Once more, Liva disappeared until they departed the next morning.

*****

  And so it went for the next two days. They founded the city of Melitta on a wide lagoon. It would serve as the main port for the surrounding settlements.

  They founded the city of Arambys at the base of a hill covered in grapevines. Such a bountiful discovery set Aba into fits of prayer and the people dancing with joy. Their cities would have wine.

  Their cities would have trade.

  Their cities would have peace.

  Their cities would have meat.

  Their cities would have grain and people aplenty.

  All but five thousand Libyphoenicians departed the fleet at these colonies, leaving the ships well stocked for the coming journey.

  The fertile terrain continued south, and so further south they journeyed. Liva only appeared toward midday after they’d departed Arambys. She found Hanno busy at the stern.

  “I suppose you’ll be founding your last settlement soon. Your fleet is much smaller,” Liva pointed out.

  “If the land continues, perhaps. But too many colonies in one area leaves us exposed and over-saturated. It would be wise to have at least one settlement further south, or better yet to have some form of geographic barrier between the colonies and the rest of the continent,” Hanno explained.

  He stared at his partially completed map. Much more of Africa had been filled in, but only on the northwestern coast.

  “Do you intend to go further south?” Liva asked.

  “Of course,” Hanno stated.

  Liva bit her lip, and stared at the rapidly fleeing coastline. “I’d like to start thinking of the time when I leave.”

  “Nonsense. Your knowledge of the local terrain aids our scouts.”

  “I’m not a Carthaginian.”

  “Nor is Artemisia.”

  “You pay me to be here,” the helmsman pointed out.

  “Would you like compensation?” Hanno asked Liva. “Name your price. Your services are valuable to this expedition.”

  “Alright then. Here is my price. Go back. Return home and never touch my continent again,” Liva demanded.