Homeward
Chapter Two
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So tell me when you hear my heart stop
You're the only one that knows
Tell me when you hear my silence
There's a possibility I wouldn't know
So tell me when my sigh is over
You're the reason why I'm close
Tell me when you hear me falling
There's a possibility it wouldn't show
By blood and by me, and I'll fall when you leave
By blood and by me, I follow your lead
-'Possibility' by Lykke Li
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As Nyx made the first signs of her appearance and painted the skies in her dark hues, Alexander watched the last rays of the sun disappear beyond the horizon. He silently demanded that the goddess of night retreat back and allow the sun to shine a bit longer.
"Just a few minutes more." He begged internally.
But alas, the light of day continued to fade and with it went any optimism that still existed in the King's heart. He could feel what was left of that heart sink ever lower with the sun.
For the past few hours he had made himself a shell, he was empty of any strong emotion. Alexander had quietly packed all his pain, fear, and anxiety neatly behind internal walls. These fortifications that he quickly assembled around his heart held back the tidal wave of agony that was ever growing inside him. He had decided very quickly to do this. Alexander knew that he needed a clear, open head in order to act.
And so he organized groups of soldiers and almost immediately after hearing of the tragedy, the King had the riverbank being thoroughly scoured for any sign of the missing General.
But, they had not gotten very far in the short time allowed by the cruel Nyx.
As the light retreated, Alexander felt the force of his anguish and worry threaten to break through the walls containing them. The horrible, frigid hand of fear began to grip at his aching heart.
He could barely register that someone was yelling his name as he sat astride his horse, frozen by his own inner turmoil.
"Alexander! Sire!" Cleitus called out as he rode towards Alexander, "My King, night is falling. We must return to camp."
The King struggled to set his face and attempted rid his expression of the panic that was beginning to show there.
"We can keep going. Yes, a bit longer will be fine." He said firmly, not only trying to convince his General.
Cleitus moved closer to the distressed man, an understanding, kind expression on his weather beaten face. He laid a reassuring hand on the King's forearm, which he could feel shaking beneath his touch.
"Alexander, I can only imagine what you must be feeling." He said softly, gently, "But you cannot allow this," he pointed a thick finger at Alexander's heart, "to keep you from using this." He moved to point at the other man's head, "We will accomplish nothing wandering around in the dark. And these men are exhausted, they wish to find their General as much as you wish to find your Phai, but we must turn back."
The sound of the endearing nickname of his lover passing through the lips of another caused an agonizing sensation of pain to shoot through Alexander's whole being. And then fiery anger flared up inside of him.
He furiously ripped his arm away from the comforting hand that had offered to console him.
"Do not ever let that name cross your tongue again, or I will cut it off myself." He growled furiously.
Cleitus was very obviously taken aback by that statement. The two stared at each other for a while, one confused and uncertain, and the other enraged and broken.
Despite his sudden flare of anger, in his head the King knew that Cleitus was right.
Finally he commanded tersely, "Have the men turn around. We are going back to camp."
Alexander looked back multiple times toward the river as they made their way up and out of the ravine. He longed to throw himself into it, in hopes that it would wash him away to where ever it had taken Hephaestion.
And he knew that even though his body rode back to camp astride Bucephalus, his heart was miles away, somewhere down river with his Phai.
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His body felt oddly numb and heavy when Hephaestion was finally able to crack open his eyes.
He was so cold.
Absolute darkness was all around him. The only distinguishable thing he could see was the soft glow of the stars in the heavens.
Every part of him was so, so cold.
Where he was and what had happened, he did not know. As he watched a shooting star dart across the sky in a streak of wavering light, he wondered why Alexander was not with him. Why he was not there to help him.
"Please Xander," he thought, "make the cold go away."
His vision began to darken around the edges and his lucidity began to once again ebb away. And with his last conscious moments he listened to the steady beat of his heart within his own chest.
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Attempting sleep was a fruitless effort on Alexander's part.
He spent many hours nervously wandering around. Half the time he wasn't even really sure of what he was doing. He would suddenly dart over to his desk, and then get there completely unaware of what his initial objective had been.
He was so completely lost.
Alexander was sure that he had never been so utterly alone in his entire life.
He shivered despite not feeling cold.
When he finally chose to occupy his bed, sleep did not come any easier. He lay, blankly staring up at the ceiling.
The King of the Macedonian Empire, even in camp, had a bed more luxurious than most had in their homes.
It was large and soft; covered in thick, lavish blankets and piles of plush pillows. Anyone would say that it should have cradled any person effortlessly into sleep.
But tonight, Alexander found it lacking.
He found no comfort in it without the gentle movements of someone else shifting in sleep beside him. How was he expected to fall into slumber without Hephaestion's scent surrounding him, without dark hair spread over his pillows?
He thought of Phai, out there somewhere, just as lonely and desperate as him and he was overcome by a wave of pain.
Slowly, silently he slid a hand across the bed to the space that should have been occupied, but the hand did not meet soft, warm skin. All he felt was emptiness.
And only then, after hours of containing them, Alexander let loud, heavy sobs unrelentingly wrack his body.
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When General Hephaestion awoke for the second time, he had could not feel any specific part of his own body. All he could feel was the overwhelming pain. Every inch of his being ached.
A low groan reached his ears and he quickly recognized that it came from him.
Slowly, his eyes cracked open and sunlight poured into them. He continued to squint as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brilliance.
He lay as another groan escaped. The events that had led to his current condition came flooding back as he became ever more lucid.
Now the all over pain made more sense. He had been tossed about and thrown against rocks all down river. His body had been beat unrelentingly by the water.
Hephaestion could not believe that he still continued to breathe. He had been granted some great miracle.
He had expected as he had floated through the muddy water that he had breathed his last breaths, seen his last sunrise, and held his Xander's hand for the last time.
But now as he filled his lungs with air, listened to the strong pound of his heart, and blinked against the dazzling sun, he silently thanked the gods for this blessed second chance.
Slowly, oh so slowly, Hephaestion began to move. He did not know how much damage had been done to his body, so he thought it best to test for any injuries.
He started by simply flexing his muscles, putting tension through the strong bands, carefully observing any discomfort. They were stiff and sore, but he could not feel any major problems.
Feeling assured by the results of his first examination, the General began moving joins. He grunted lowly at the tenderness of his battered body, but there were no broken bones, torn muscles, or severe lacerations, so Hephaestion was optimistic.
He suddenly realized how dry his mouth was. His throat was parched and dry as a bone.
He started to move to get up and take a drink of the water that still lapped around his chilled feet and legs. But then he froze at the sound of hoofs moving over the rocky riverbed.
He quickly understood the vulnerable position he was in.
Here he was, very stiff, sore, and slow; and not really sure how he could move on his feet yet, for he had taken a bad blow to the head. He was unarmed and had no idea where he was. In essence, he was the perfect target to be taken advantage of or captured. He only had with him a small knife tucked securely in his belt. He could feel the smooth metal still resting there.
Slowly, the clop-clop of the hoofs neared, Hephaestion remained in perfect stillness. Until, finally, they stopped. With his heart beating against his ribs, he readied himself.
He took a slow breath as a shadow fell over him. And then, after biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment, he could feel a presence just above him. So suddenly, with a burst of energy, ignoring the protest of his aching body, he sprang to his feet and grabbed his blade in one swift motion.
He stood poised to strike, his knife glinting in the sun. But he saw that his efforts were wasted.
"Well, how nice to see you again." The General said to his horse as he lowered his weapon.
Damon took a few more steps forward, and Hephaestion reached out and laid a hand on the side of his neck.
He reluctantly admitted to himself what a comfort and relief it was to see a familiar face. Damon had stood by him through countless battles, and now he stands by him in a whole new kind of adventure.
"I'm very glad to see that you have earned the name that was given to you." He smiled faintly at the steed.
Damon snorted indignantly at the thought of anyone doubting in his loyalty.
"What have you gotten us into?" the man sighed.
Hephaestion rested his cheek to the side of Damon's neck. The horse's sun warmed coat heated his cold skin.
He could feel the strong pulse quivering under his cheek, and he marveled at the vigor of his companion. If it was amazing that he survived, it was truly a miracle that Damon had survived unscathed. It was a comfort to know that he had this tough friend to go through this with.
It would have been so easy to be weak in that moment. But listening to the strong heartbeat of his comrade instilled a fire of intense self-preservation. He fed off the power of his steed. He knew that right now weakness was not an option.
The General took a deep breath and then stood up straight to analyze his surroundings better.
The rocky riverbed lay in a valley between low hills. The vegetation consisted of hardy grasses and low, durable shrubs. He could see nothing that would indicate where he was.
All he knew about his environment is what he could see, and the vague understanding of the land that he learned from studying maps with Alexander as the army moved through the area.
He had no idea how far down river he had been swept or, for that fact, how long he had been unconscious.
Though there was a slight feeling of panic moving through his veins, he kept a clear head. Somehow he needed to find his way home.
Upon thinking of the word 'home' all he could picture was Alexander's face.
Of course, for him home was most certainly not an army camp, or his tent; not even Pella held that connotation for him. Home for Hephaestion is where ever he can feel Alexander's arms around him.
That is where he needed to be.
The most obvious and smartest strategy would be to follow the river. It would be a road back to where he started. A long, winding, difficult road. But it would get him back to the battlefield, and from there he could easily find his way back to camp.
Not only would the river serve as an easily followed route, but it also gave him unlimited access to precious water.
The only kink his analytical mind could see was that the army would most likely not stay put. Camp would most certainly move. And though he could remember the plans drawn up of the next movements of the forces, it could not be guaranteed that they would be stuck to. If he did not get back before the army marched on and they changed course in way, he would be completely at a loss.
His heart began to pound at the thought, his anxiety getting the best of him.
But he had no time to waste, he must make the most of every second of daylight allowed to him. He must move as quickly as possible.
His road will be long, rough, dangerous, and demanding. But if it led to home, led to Alexander, it would be worth traveling a hundred times over. A thousand times over. A million times over.
He squatted at the waterside and took a deep drink of the cool water from his cupped hands. Mentally he was preparing himself for the trials ahead. He stood slowly and glanced around once more.
As he approached Damon, he unstrapped his heavy armor and then secured it to the horses back. The heat of the day was being to create sheen of sweat on his brow. He tied his long, damp hair back with a strip of leather.
He checked to see that the dagger he had replaced back into his belt was still there. It was his only protection, and only tool. It was vital that he had it.
Mounting Damon, his aching muscles protested. He sighed as he finally came to sit astride the animal.
His fingers found the coarse hair of Damon's thick mane, as he bent to speak into his mount's ear.
"Let's go home."
And with that, he flicked the reins putting them in motion. The journey upstream had begun.
The progress seemed excruciatingly slow for the General, but he remembered that each step he was another step closer to Alexander, another step closer to home.
Hope that this was a good follow up for you guys! Please, please, please keep the reviews coming!
The wonderful Lykke Li provided the lyrics for this chapter. 'Possibility' is a great, almost haunting song that I recommend you check out.
As you may have noticed, the names of all original characters in this story are very important. Like Hephaestion's horse. Damon is the Greek name meaning loyal. I found it fitting since he is sticking with Phai through a hard time. So now you have a little spoiler, there will be a few more OCs. Watch for the names, they always fit the character.
Reviews=:D
xxcrazymacxx