Cleitus’ spirit sat weeping on the berm above the ditch where his body had been dumped and covered with sand. He didn’t have to dig it out to know it was there. He could still feel the connection. The tug on his soul that kept him bound to the earth rather than flying to a life in the heavens with the Gods. How could Alexander be so cruel? How could he have failed to honor him as was called for in their culture, and as befit the man who saved his life and fought at his side for years?
He wiped his tears from hollow eyes and spat to the side in anger. His head was filled with vengeful thoughts. Revenge gripped the soul of this now troubled spirit. Cleitus would haunt his king until the day he died. Alexander could not have known that no matter what he did, what god he sacrificed to, he could never amend this fatal error in judgement.
Cleitus existed for a time ethereally, following the Macedonian army as it crisscrossed Persia seeking wealth and conquering territory. He watched former comrades fall. At one point he held a dying friend in his arms and it was as that friend’s spirit passed that Cleitus found his own soul slip effortlessly into the empty shell of his comrade-in-arms. He found himself staring up at the clear blue sky and felt the earth beneath the body. It was fleeting, but a glimpse of what was possible before one of the Persian enemy ran the body through again, and Cleitus found himself once more floating disembodied.
The old warrior’s attention became focuses on developing a melding of his soul with another. He now felt it was possible to achieve his revenge. He observed and experimented. At first, he slipped into the dying and for a moment after their spirit left, he could breath again… feel again… Even the pain was worth withstanding if he could be whole for even a few breaths of fresh air and to feel the sunshine on his face. Existence as a disembodied soul was no longer alien to him, but it was barely tolerable. He longed to touch… to feel…
Finally, one day in the flurry of battle, he found a young infantry man. The lad must have lied about his age in order to have joined Alexander’s campaign into Persia, because he was little more than a youth now. His spirit was so troubled that Cleitus had been drawn to it. The young man thought he would never see home again. He was frightened, almost to the point of hysteria. He had taken a spear in his leg and was unable to rise. The enemy was all around him. He knew he was going to die. After years of endless battle, he would never feel Greek soil under his feet or taste the grapes from his family’s vineyard again.
With the young man’s spirit in such torment, it was easy for Cleitus to push it aside and enter the body of the injured soldier. The boy’s spirit was almost thankful for his presence. Cleitus took over, pushing the other spirit to the back as easily as he might have done it in person were he protecting the lad from the approaching enemy.
The experience soldier pulled the spear from what he now considered his own leg, wrapped his focale around it as a bandage and rose to his feet. Using the spear, he pulled form his leg, he thrust and parried, killing the enemy around him. When the spear broke off in the shield of another warrior, he abandoned it for the sword at his side. The young man was well equipped. Cleitus pulled his dagger with his other hand and rained death down on the opposing soldiers. When the battle was over he was surrounded by a mound of bodies so high he literally had to climb over them.
He and Zeuxis became one that day. Cleitus thought it was appropriate and perhaps divine intervention that bought Zeuxis to him. The young man’s name literally meant, ‘to bind or join together’. It was fate, or the gods, that had placed Cleitus’ spirit so close to the boy’s during his moment of need.
What Cleitus considered his first incarnation was as Zeuxis, a young infantry soldier who fought so valiantly that he was recognized and asked to join the Companions of Alexander the Great.
Cleitus had his revenge, when Zeuxis poisoned Alexander in 323 B.C. The young man, no longer innocent, wanted to go home. He wanted to put Persia far behind and return to the peaceful life of his forefathers, the wine merchants of Kalava. Cleitus eventually gave into Zeuxis and for a time, Cleitus and Zeuxis were at peace. They lived a long life until Zeuxis death in 268 B.C. at the incredible age of 80. On that day Cleitus’ soul was cast out once again into the ethereal world with no idea of where to go.
For a few years the soul of Cleitus was reluctant to move on. He stayed in Kalava and watched over the family and business Zeuxis and he built together, but eventually he found it too painful. He left, and his soul wandered endlessly for years until it came upon a Roman brigade on Sicily at the beginning of the First Punic War in 264 B.C.
The Romans were battling for Messina to give them a foothold in the Mediterranean. Cleitus found a Roman soldier in the heat of battle whose soul was more than willing for him to take it over and fight in his stead. Cleitus had no trouble remembering his training of old and with a new, younger and stronger body, he felt renewed and invigorated. He had forgotten what it was like to have the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, the heady feeling when the battle was over, and the camaraderie of his fellow soldiers. He struggled forward in combat with the Romans in that legion as Tiberius Insteius Tacitus for twenty-seven years.
Tiberius taught Cleitus how to fight as a Roman, and Cleitus taught Tiberius a few old Greek tricks. The soul of Cleitus was growing in knowledge and in skills. He was almost unstoppable. Tiberius’ reputation spread over Sicily and he became a target of the Ancient Carthaginian army on the island. In 236 B.C. Tiberius fell as he was overwhelmed by enemy troops.
Cleitus, once more adrift, overheard members of the Carthaginian army praising a commander named Hannibal. Ethereally the old warrior traveled to the Iberian Peninsula and listened in on Hannibal’s plans to take that area and eventually make it his route to conquer Rome.
In 216 B.C. Cleitus jumped from body to body in the Roman army as Hannibal’s men cut them down at the battle of Cannae to the tune of 80,000.
He wiped his tears from hollow eyes and spat to the side in anger. His head was filled with vengeful thoughts. Revenge gripped the soul of this now troubled spirit. Cleitus would haunt his king until the day he died. Alexander could not have known that no matter what he did, what god he sacrificed to, he could never amend this fatal error in judgement.
Cleitus existed for a time ethereally, following the Macedonian army as it crisscrossed Persia seeking wealth and conquering territory. He watched former comrades fall. At one point he held a dying friend in his arms and it was as that friend’s spirit passed that Cleitus found his own soul slip effortlessly into the empty shell of his comrade-in-arms. He found himself staring up at the clear blue sky and felt the earth beneath the body. It was fleeting, but a glimpse of what was possible before one of the Persian enemy ran the body through again, and Cleitus found himself once more floating disembodied.
The old warrior’s attention became focuses on developing a melding of his soul with another. He now felt it was possible to achieve his revenge. He observed and experimented. At first, he slipped into the dying and for a moment after their spirit left, he could breath again… feel again… Even the pain was worth withstanding if he could be whole for even a few breaths of fresh air and to feel the sunshine on his face. Existence as a disembodied soul was no longer alien to him, but it was barely tolerable. He longed to touch… to feel…
Finally, one day in the flurry of battle, he found a young infantry man. The lad must have lied about his age in order to have joined Alexander’s campaign into Persia, because he was little more than a youth now. His spirit was so troubled that Cleitus had been drawn to it. The young man thought he would never see home again. He was frightened, almost to the point of hysteria. He had taken a spear in his leg and was unable to rise. The enemy was all around him. He knew he was going to die. After years of endless battle, he would never feel Greek soil under his feet or taste the grapes from his family’s vineyard again.
With the young man’s spirit in such torment, it was easy for Cleitus to push it aside and enter the body of the injured soldier. The boy’s spirit was almost thankful for his presence. Cleitus took over, pushing the other spirit to the back as easily as he might have done it in person were he protecting the lad from the approaching enemy.
The experience soldier pulled the spear from what he now considered his own leg, wrapped his focale around it as a bandage and rose to his feet. Using the spear, he pulled form his leg, he thrust and parried, killing the enemy around him. When the spear broke off in the shield of another warrior, he abandoned it for the sword at his side. The young man was well equipped. Cleitus pulled his dagger with his other hand and rained death down on the opposing soldiers. When the battle was over he was surrounded by a mound of bodies so high he literally had to climb over them.
He and Zeuxis became one that day. Cleitus thought it was appropriate and perhaps divine intervention that bought Zeuxis to him. The young man’s name literally meant, ‘to bind or join together’. It was fate, or the gods, that had placed Cleitus’ spirit so close to the boy’s during his moment of need.
What Cleitus considered his first incarnation was as Zeuxis, a young infantry soldier who fought so valiantly that he was recognized and asked to join the Companions of Alexander the Great.
~*~
Cleitus had his revenge, when Zeuxis poisoned Alexander in 323 B.C. The young man, no longer innocent, wanted to go home. He wanted to put Persia far behind and return to the peaceful life of his forefathers, the wine merchants of Kalava. Cleitus eventually gave into Zeuxis and for a time, Cleitus and Zeuxis were at peace. They lived a long life until Zeuxis death in 268 B.C. at the incredible age of 80. On that day Cleitus’ soul was cast out once again into the ethereal world with no idea of where to go.
For a few years the soul of Cleitus was reluctant to move on. He stayed in Kalava and watched over the family and business Zeuxis and he built together, but eventually he found it too painful. He left, and his soul wandered endlessly for years until it came upon a Roman brigade on Sicily at the beginning of the First Punic War in 264 B.C.
The Romans were battling for Messina to give them a foothold in the Mediterranean. Cleitus found a Roman soldier in the heat of battle whose soul was more than willing for him to take it over and fight in his stead. Cleitus had no trouble remembering his training of old and with a new, younger and stronger body, he felt renewed and invigorated. He had forgotten what it was like to have the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, the heady feeling when the battle was over, and the camaraderie of his fellow soldiers. He struggled forward in combat with the Romans in that legion as Tiberius Insteius Tacitus for twenty-seven years.
Tiberius taught Cleitus how to fight as a Roman, and Cleitus taught Tiberius a few old Greek tricks. The soul of Cleitus was growing in knowledge and in skills. He was almost unstoppable. Tiberius’ reputation spread over Sicily and he became a target of the Ancient Carthaginian army on the island. In 236 B.C. Tiberius fell as he was overwhelmed by enemy troops.
Cleitus, once more adrift, overheard members of the Carthaginian army praising a commander named Hannibal. Ethereally the old warrior traveled to the Iberian Peninsula and listened in on Hannibal’s plans to take that area and eventually make it his route to conquer Rome.
In 216 B.C. Cleitus jumped from body to body in the Roman army as Hannibal’s men cut them down at the battle of Cannae to the tune of 80,000.
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