Homeward
Chapter One
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It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
The moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight
To the right, to the left
We will fight to the death
To the Edge of the Earth
It's a brave new world from the last to the first
-'This Is War' by Thirty Seconds to Mars
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Blood. Sweat. Agony. Fear.
The General could taste them in the air.
They hung like a haze surrounding him.
The clash of metal on metal. Grunts. Groans. Screams.
Hephaestion watched the raw, savage violence.
What a horrific thing man has created. This thing they call war.
The mighty gods had created beasts with the ability to tear men to shreds, the great ocean that could swallow whole ships, and earthquakes and floods that could bury or wash away entire villages.
But war, this hideous masterpiece, it belonged solely to man.
They might pay tribute to Ares and they call the mighty Athena the goddess of war, but it was men that destroyed each other through it.
He saw men who had never met, never spoken, never even seen each other cut each other to shreds, and take each other's life. They cursed at one another and then drew the other's blood.
Hephaestion did not condemn the art of warfare. Had he not lived it his entire life? He knew that it was a necessary terror. And he would bravely fight and die for his King, just like all these men.
But unlike many of these warriors around him, he gave more thought to each man cut down by his blade, each life severed prematurely by his hand. Uneducated, simple minds could easily be bent to blindly hate. But as each man fell, Macedonian or barbarian, the General wondered how many wives and lovers would sleep in cold beds tonight, how many children would ask where their fathers were, and how many mothers would weep for their sons.
Blindly follow his King, he could do. But blindly hate, he could not.
For even though he had a strong head on his shoulders, and an independent mind, Hephaestion knew that if it came down to it, he would follow Alexander to the edges of this earth, and then jump right off those edges into the black abyss. Even if the rest of the army deserted them, all he would need to carry on was the warmth and security of Alexander's hand held tightly in his own.
He had pictured it before, the two of them standing on the edge of the world, looking out, nothing above and nothing below.
Alexander would slide his hand easily into Hephaestion's, turn and give a small grin as he said, "What do you say we press on a little farther, Phai?"
The adventurer in Alexander getting the best of him, Hephaestion would see the glint in his eye indicating that the King's mind was already made up. Hephaestion would simply smile in return. And hand in hand, they would step off into the emptiness, perfectly happy as they were swallowed up together by the unknown.
Even at this very moment the Macedonian general knew that he and his King both stood on the edge of the unknown, the edge of a knife. One wrong move and they could be separated for eternity. Each time they entered battle, they teetered on the edge of a blade, both struggling desperately to remain balanced on the tip. All it took was one second of lapse in judgment and their hearts would be driven apart by hard, cold, unfeeling death.
Hephaestion could pretend that he did not worry before and during battle for his love, but he did. He could not let the worry and anxiety affect how he fought though. 'That would be counterproductive' is how Ptolemy once put it when Hephaestion had confessed his fears. And so he did his best to put it from his mind.
But after every battle, a small knot clenched in the pit of the General's stomach. And as more and more time past without seeing those warm brown eyes that he longed for, the tighter it pulled itself, until it felt as if he would be sick. Then a flutter of panic would set in Hephaestion's heart, air ceased to move properly through his lungs, and his blood froze in his veins.
His mind racing, Hephaestion would wonder if he should stop searching among the living for the King…
But then, out of the haze of violence and death around him, he would spot the messy mop of blond hair, drenched in sweat, and feel the gaze he needed on him. The world would right itself, the stars would realign in the heavens, and for the first time since the last time he had seen Alexander, he would breathe.
Right now he longed for that relief, that sense of freedom, that peace. But Hephaestion knew he must focus on winning this battle before any of that could become a reality.
The men that they fought now were some of the few that attempted to resist the Macedonian Army. And despite inferior weapons, numbers, and military expertise they had put up a good fight. General Hephaestion had to admit his respect for their commander.
They were in a superior standing as far as location. The barbarians had positioned their army on a slight incline, next to a deep ravine, at the bottom of which flowed a mighty river, securely protecting their left flank. And behind the opposing forces Hephaestion could see the oceanic rising and falling of hills, serving not only to protect their rear, but also were very easy for retreating men to disappear into.
Of course, all of this had been taken into account by Alexander and his corps of generals. And a decisive and tactical battle plan had been drawn up.
Hephaestion could not be certain how long ago it was that he watched, with the rest of the cavalry, most of the infantry march upon the opposing forces from the right, the most obvious and safe attack. The General had hated the feeling of waiting there, perched on the edge, tense and ready, but unable to take the plunge, just biding time.
He had felt a sense of relief when at last the cavalry rode hard and fast along the edge of the ravine, straight towards the adversaries' left, where the defenses were most likely to be weakest. They would be relying on the natural barrier to deter any hard-wearing attack there.
As they had moved ever forward towards the mass of humans waiting with the intent of slaughtering every single one of them, Hephaestion's heart had beat as hard and fast as the hoofs beneath him. Not from fear, but from the pure excitement and adrenaline that coursed through his body.
And from there to his present observation of the bloodshed around him, battle was very much a blur, as always. Only certain images stood out against the general chaos, flashes of death and blood.
Then a sudden glint of the sun reflecting off something moving towards him caught the General's eye, pulling him from his very out of place reflections.
Hephaestion ducked down to his right just in time to avoid the enemy spear hurling through the air at him.
He realized that he was lucky that he had reacted on time. He had let himself become distracted. This was not the time or place for his tumultuous inner musings.
So now he focused.
General Hephaestion rode hard into a more active part of the battlefield. It was becoming evident that the Macedonian army would be adding another victory under their belt, but the opposing forces fought as hard as ever. They were not willing to give up just yet.
Hephaestion cut down man after man, watching them fall to the blood soaked sand. He counted them off in his head: Someone's son. Someone's brother. Someone's husband. Someone's lover.
But then he caught sight of Alexander's face, and that commanded all of his attention. A few yards away, his King sat astride Bucephalus, blood splattered over his armor and skin, wielding his sword and fighting along side his men.
He looked so strong, glorious, and majestic. It was easy to see why his men followed him.
Hephaestion had once made a comment to Alexander in how he differed compared to other kings, who sat safely behind their men, never participating in the actual battle.
Alexander had given a small grin, "What true king would ask his men to do what he himself will not?"
And so Alexander now fought as a true King, along side the men that served him.
It was a relief to the General to catch a glimpse of his love; it reassured him that Alexander had managed to remain unscathed so far. He never attempted to keep tabs on his Xander during a battle, but any reassurance was always welcome.
Hephaestion then saw something that commanded his full attention. He watched as a massive barbarian warrior cut down soldier after soldier, taking many Macedonian lives. He was a huge man, wielding a sword and a spear, and using both very effectively. Obviously a talented warrior, this man hacked through Hephaestion's fellow Macedonians like one chops down weeds. Hephaestion hated to see so many lives lost, especially those of his comrades.
As the vicious adversary killed infantryman after infantryman, the General knew that he must act to prevent further death, and him being mounted on a horse would be in his advantage.
He urged his horse, Damon, forward and raised his sword to strike. He was sure that one quick, strong blow would finish the soldier off, but just as he swung his weapon down to deliver the fatal blow, the man turned and deflected the strike with his sword, seemingly with ease.
Hephaestion yanked back on his reins, turning his steed to charge at the fierce warrior once more.
But on this charge he found himself on the defensive, as the man on the ground boldly thrust with his spear. The General dodged the strike, but it caught Damon's hind leg. Hephaestion heard the cry from his horse and felt his body quake with pain beneath him. This sudden attack caused the horse the rear back in pain.
Hephaestion settled his companion and observed that it was a minor wound, and he chose to push Damon on. He knew that his mount was strong and could fight through the pain.
He had backed away from his adversary in order to check on his horse's injury, Hephaestion looked back up to ride once again back into the fight and finish his man. But as he did he saw that the warrior was already charging towards him, weapons raised.
The General was now convinced that this man was insane.
He had never seen an infantryman charge by himself into straight on confrontation with a cavalryman. The disadvantage was too great. More times than not the man on the ground would be killed.
But the warrior did not attempt to strike at the General. Instead he thrust his spear viciously at Damon, causing the horse to skitter back in fear. Damon had once felt the sharp pain of the spear today; he did not wish to feel it again.
Hephaestion tried to turn the steed, move him so that he could have an easier angle to strike. But the opponent quickly readjusted himself and continued to push the horse backwards.
So the General attempted to urge Damon forward, to charge the man head on. But the battle trained horse was not complying. Hephaestion could not believe that the horse that had stood by his side through so many battles was now behaving like a frightened colt in the pasture. His heart began to race as he realized that he no longer had much control over the animal. It very quickly dawned on him how dangerous his situation was.
He contemplated abandoning the unruly horse, but could not bring himself to do that to his friend.
Suddenly he felt Damon's back legs falter slightly he turned to look behind him and realized all too suddenly what the man was doing.
All sense of loyalty to the animal beneath him vanishing, Hephaestion tried to swing himself off the horse just as the barbarian laughed and gave one final, strong thrust towards Damon.
The General felt him rear up, then felt his hind legs scramble beneath him, and then finally felt those legs fail, as both man and horse tumbled over the edge of the ravine.
It all seemed to happen slowly, yet it was still not enough time for Hephaestion to react.
As he fell through the air, the General reached his hands out to grasp at what was not there. His mouth opened but no scream was audible. All that he could feel was the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest and the cold air rushing past his body.
Then he felt the cold slap of his body hitting the water. Every cell in his body screamed at the pain. The frigid water bit as his nerves and the skin that had smacked against the hard surface of the water burned with fiery agony.
And then he was tumbling, his body thrown about. Hephaestion felt himself being pushed and pulled, left and right. His limbs flailing beyond his control, striking against unseen rocks as the current threw him about like a leaf in the wind.
The General could see nothing, just a swirling, muddy murk.
Fear consumed him as he registered his lungs beginning to scream for the air they lacked. His chest burned and his heart raced and he could not ignore the utter helplessness of his situation.
He kicked his legs furiously, but they got him nowhere. He couldn't even tell which direction led to the surface.
Before he knew it his mind became as murky as the water that entrapped him. He lost what little control he did have over his body. He floated helplessly as his lungs ached.
Out of nowhere, Hephaestion felt a hard force crack against the back of his skull. He watched the water around him run slightly red.
As he clung to consciousness, his eyes located a bright spot distorted by the movement of the water. He attempted to raise an arm and reach for it, as one hazy thought floated through his aching head, "Alexander, my sun. I cannot reach you."
And then he saw and thought no more.
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Alexander rarely ever doubted himself. And he doubted in his quest into the continent of Asia even less. But in these moments, his self-assurance faltered slightly. In these horrible moments just after battle, he doubted slightly in his own judgment. In many ways, they are worse than the battle itself. It is in these moments that the price of his mission is laid out before him.
He felt his heart ache for the men scattered over the sand, many of them younger than himself. Their short lives cut far too early. One silent tear glided down the side of his face.
For some men that was the only mourning they would receive. Other than that they would be nameless faces killed in battle. But although the King shed only one tear, he mourned them all.
Not far from him, a man knelt by the lifeless body of one of his comrades, openly weeping. Alexander wondered what connection this man had with the fallen soldier.
Suddenly the man threw his head back and cried through the tears, "Have the gods no mercy?"
The King laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He could not hide the bleakness in his voice as he said, "The gods have mercy, but men seldom do."
He walked slowly away, not looking back. He was trying desperately to hold himself together.
And at that moment there was one face in particular he needed to see. Yet, his Phai was nowhere to be found.
Any time Alexander felt the bubbling force of anxiety come to a boil in his chest, he knew only one thing that could settle the inner turmoil. The calming touch of Hephaestion's hand and the soothing reassurance of his soft voice refortified Alexander's self-confidence and chased away his insecurity. He needed that now. He needed the serenity that always came with his Phai's presence.
The King soon found himself wandering around, asking a few other generals if they had seen him. Not one had.
As panic set in, Alexander began asking Hephaestion's men if they knew where their general was. He got nothing but bewildered faces and slow shakes of their heads.
Alexander knew something was off. It never took this long for him to find Phai, or for Phai to find him. He felt his body begin to quake with anticipation. His mind instantly jumped to the worst conclusions. Absolute terror flowed through his veins as more and more time passed.
Perceptive Ptolemy noted the obvious distress on his King's face and kindly offered his assistance. He walked briskly off to locate the missing General.
Alexander continued his search and after a few minutes he saw Ptolemy approaching, with him was someone that was clearly not Hephaestion.
It was a lowly infantryman. They came to stand before the King.
"Sire," Ptolemy said, his voice careful and grave, "Alexander."
Ptolemy's face and voice told him that something was very, very wrong.
"What is it?" Alexander said in the strongest voice he could muster.
"This man saw something. Something you need to know."
Alexander's heart was dying. He could feel its slow demise inside his chest.
The man visibly shook as he spoke to his King. His voice was low, careful, and weary.
"During the battle, Sire, I saw him. I saw General Hephaestion. He fought this huge barbarian, as big as a bear, near the ravine. Somehow the man, he forced the General to the edge, and then….then, the General, he…"
The nervous soldier looked to Ptolemy as he struggled for words.
In his dying heart Alexander knew what came next, but he had to hear the words. Until he did, he refused to believe.
Even Ptolemy was faltering, hesitating in his words.
The King almost shouted at his friend, "What is it? Tell me now, General!"
Everyone pretended not to notice that his voice broke sharply at the end, and that he was obviously barely holding himself together.
Ptolemy spoke, "Alexander, he fell."
And at that moment the King felt his stomach drop, his soul turn into a cavernous barren spot, and his heart shrivel into dust.
"By the gods," he thought, "my life is over."
Ok, so there is chapter one of my first real multi-chapter story. I'm a little nervous about this one since I mostly stick to oneshots...so I need lots of reviews to keep me encouraged and keep the updates coming! :) Hopefully I can have another chapter up by early next week.
My apologies if the battle scene seems horribly inaccurate...I don't pretend to be an expert on battle tactics, let alone ancient battle tactics.
Each chapter will start with a song lyric. This one is from "This is War" a little ditty by Thirty Seconds to Mars. Their lead singer is a gentleman by the name of Mr. Jared Leto...maybe you've heard of him? ;) Anyways, check out the song, it's kind of epic!
Thank you so much for reading! Review, my lovelies, review!
xxcrazymacxx
