Part V

"Father, I need the latest reports you have on the Illyrian mines," Alexander demanded as he stalked into Philip's study. He did not care that his father was in the middle of a meeting with his generals, he needed to find out where Hephaestion was.

"Not now, boy, I'm busy," Philip snarled, wine sloshing over his wrist as he gesticulated wildly with his right hand which held a goblet.

"Hephaestion is in one of the Illyrian mines."

Philip paused at that, staring levelly at Alexander out of his one good eye. "You are certain?"

"Illyrian mercenaries had both Hephaestion's horse and the medallion I gave him. The one with the medallion boasted that he had taken it from a slave that was sent to the mines," Alexander explained in a rush, already moving towards the stack of reports on his father's desk. "I need to know which mine Hephaestion was sent to so that I can bring him home."

More familiar with the chaotic state of his desk, Philip found the necessary scrolls immediately. He scanned through them then pressed one over to Alexander who was shifting impatiently beside him. "If the boy is anywhere, it is here. This is the only one of them to have any new slaves sent to it."

"Thank you, Father," Alexander murmured, nodded briefly at the older man before rushing from the room. He meant to be gone from Pella before nightfall. Regardless, it would be a few days before he reached Illyria. More days that he and Hephaestion would be separated, the latter not knowing that he had been found.

"You are taking a proper escort with you this time, Alexander."

He had nearly made it to the door when his father's voice stopped him.

Pausing, he glanced back over his shoulder. "I do not have time to waste with an escort."

Philip crossed his arms over his chest. "Then you do not go. Allowing you to head to the coast was one thing, but Illyria is another matter entirely. The tribesmen there will not care that you are my son. You are more likely to be killed because of that fact."

"A light escort then only, Father. I will not be held up by them."

It was a portion of the Vanguard that made up Alexander's escort. He knew each man and was confident that none would attempt to hinder him. Save for Philotas and Cassander. When leaving Pella a second time late in the afternoon he could find no reason to insist that the two remain behind. Parmenion and Antipater would see it as a personal snub which his father would not allow.

"Do anything to place Hephaestion's life in further jeopardy and you will not return to Pella," Alexander said, reigning Bucephalas in next to them for a moment before digging his heels in and moving to the front of the column.

Alexander's gave was fixed to the northeast where Illyria and Hephaestion lay waiting for him. He would not turn back towards Pella until Hephaestion was with him.

Every time he would life something, a line of fire streaked across his back. It was sharp and agonizing and more than once he had nearly dropped his load. On top of that his head ached terribly and his hands seemed to tremble continuously.

When he stumbled after depositing his latest load he could not catch himself in time and fell to his knees. The impact sent a radiating wave of pain all through his body, forcing a cry past his lips. He remained on his knees for several long minutes, waiting for the pain to subside long enough so that he could climb back to his feet. Except that he could not. Try as he might, he could not force his knees to support his weight.

"On your feet, boy," the foreman shouted from somewhere to his right. "Get him up!"

Two sets of hands latched onto his arms and hauled him up. He wavered between them, his legs no more willing to bear his weight than they had been before. His vision began to shift out of focus as well, hazy at the edges and creeping ever inward. The fire that had only been in his back now consumed his entire body. Smoldering in his flesh and scorching his vision.

"Alexander," he moaned as he momentarily sighted a flash of golden hair. "Please…."

"Get him out of here," the foreman snarled.

Then he was being dragged away. Opposite from where Alexander had been. He tried to struggle away from them, but doubted that they even noticed. They merely grunted and pulled him along.

"Come back," he sobbed, fingers straining where Alexander had been.

The blackness that had only been on the edges before was growing.

"Come back…."

Had it been only him and Bucephalas, Alexander was certain that the journey to Illyria would only take three days. Less if he pushed Bucephalas. Quick as that was to cross the entire breadth of Macedon, it was still far too long for him to be separated from Hephaestion. Especially when he knew with an absolute certainty that his lover was suffering. It was not the back breaking labor so much as the men themselves that filled Alexander with dread. Strong as he was, Hephaestion was still only one man. Alexander would not think any less of him or love him any less regardless of what happened. All that mattered to him was that Hephaestion lived.

"Civilization does not currently exist for Hephaestion," Cleitus had warned him when they had left Pella. "The mines revert men back to the baseness of our past and a man must do all that he can to survive. Anything that Hephaestion has had to do to stay alive should not be held against him."

"It would never matter to me."

In the end, regardless of what had happened, all that would concern him was that Hephaestion was alive. Achilles did not survive long without Patroclus and neither would be survive long without Hephaestion. Only a month had passed and already he was nearly undone.

For the first time, Olympias began to worry. She had not counted on Alexander discovering the boy's fate so quickly. She had hoped several months to have passed, for the more time that passed the less likely it was that the Athenian brat would survive. Killing him outright would have been more prudent, but she had wanted him to suffer for thinking that he could usurp her position in Alexander's life. Or for daring to believe that he could place himself above the son of Zeus himself. Childhood infatuation or not, Amyntor's son should not have been so bold.

"You will not be victorious over me," Olympias murmured as she dropped the braided length of hair into a brazier. Incense already in the bowl kept the scent from being over-powering. "I am his mother and he knows that I will only ever do what is in his best interest. He will come to understand that you were only ever a hindrance."

With luck, however, the boy would already be dead and Alexander would know nothing of her involvement.

All of Alexander's fear crystallized as they approached the mines. All of the workers were little more than shadows of them they had once been. Hollowed sacks of flesh that barely resembled men in either body or spirit. Those that were not withered to mere phantoms were demons masquerading as mortals.

"My lord, you honor us with your presence," the foreman, Hermolaus, said as he approached his steps quick. "I was unaware that the king took such an interest in our humble operation."

Alexander barely spared the man a glance, his eyes searching out Hephaestion in the crowd. "He does not. I do. Six weeks ago you received a new shipment of slaves. It is suspected that numbered among them is a man named Hephaestion Amyntoros. He is a companion of mine and the son of one of my father's generals."

Beside him, the foreman stiffened. Hephaestion was near.

"It would be in your best interest to have Hephaestion brought here immediately," Alexander ground out, the man's obvious fear filling him with unease.

"My lord, what you ask is impossible—"

Alexander had Harmolaus on his back before he could even finish his sentence, a knife poised at his throat. "You should choose your next words wisely for Hephaestion is very dear to me."

"He is not dead!" Harmolaus cried out, his eyes darting about in search of aid. "There was a boy who called himself that and he is still here. He lives!"

Though momentarily relieved, Alexander did not allow himself to relent. He maintained his enraged façade, pressing the knife more firmly to the foreman's throat. "If Hephaestion cannot be brought to me, then I will go to him. Immediately. Am I understood?"

"Completely, my lord," Harmolaus gasped, nodding his head as much as a blade at his throat would allow.

"Cleitus and Ptolemy, come with me. The rest of you remain here," Alexander ordered as he rose to his feet, only sheathing his knife when the foreman began scrambling deeper into the mining complex.

Hephaestion was near. Alexander could feel that closeness singing in his veins. His whole body felt as though it were vibrating, a combination of tension and elation. While he had been assured of his beloved's presence in the camp, Harmolaus' attitude did nothing to reassure him. He had known that Hephaestion would not escape his time in slavery unscathed, but for the first time he truly began to fear for his lover. The fact that he was being led to what was obviously a medical tent did nothing to maintain his hopes.

"What happened to him?" Alexander demanded as the foreman led him into the infirmary.

"He was disciplined and has developed an infection as a result."

Alexander knew immediately what the punishment had been Hephaestion had been flogged. While it was not the first time he had received such a punishment, Alexander was fairly certain that it was the first time he had received inadequate care afterwards. The severity of the situation did not strike him until they stepped into the infirmary and Alexander saw the state of the other patients. Men blackened by the soot of underground torches, limbs crushed or broken and bodies wasted away to little more than bones and sinews.

"The one who called him Hephaestion is in the back."

Even before Harmolaus spike, Alexander had spotted his love. Thin, skin pale as a marble column and his hair copped into unruly spikes, Alexander still recognized the other man and his body sagged to see him brought so low. Alexander kept his eyes locked on Hephaestion's still form as he staggered through the cramped space. As he neared, he could see the raw, infected weals that marred Hephaestion's back, standing out all the more against his ashen skin.

"Phae…." Alexander moaned as he dropped to his knees alongside Hephaestion's cot. "I should have come sooner…."

The figure on the bed offered no response and had it not been for the harsh gasps of his breathing, he would have thought Hephaestion dead. He was almost afraid to touch the other man, fearful that he would only hurt him more. Hephaestion's almost inaudible whimper decided things for him and Alexander immediately laid his hand over Hephaestion's sunken cheek.

"I should have started looking sooner," Alexander whispered, his eyes never leaving Hephaestion's face. "I knew that you would not leave without seeing me and I did nothing for a month. An entire month. You were suffering all this time…."

"You could not have known," Ptolemy sought to assure him, placing a hand upon his shoulder. "None of us could have. Nor would any of us have wished this on Hephaestion."

Alexander shook his head, his fingers slipping up into Hephaestion's unkempt hair. "There are many who would have done this to him. Many hate him simply because I love him."

Ptolemy and Cleitus both attempted to deny this, but Alexander knew the truth. Hephaestion was hated by a great many for the simple fact that Alexander trusted and love him most.

"I will make it right," Alexander murmured, leaning in close to brush his lips against Hephaestion's temple. He lingered a moment, head bowed, before sitting back. "Each of you take an end of the cot. I want Hephaestion out of this house of death. He will not recover here."

Alexander kept a hand on Hephaestion's shoulder as Cleitus and Ptolemy hoisted the narrow cot off the hard-packed ground. Now that he had found his love again he had no intention of ever allowing him out of his sight. He would not lose Hephaestion for the loss would surely wound him as severely as the loss of Patroclus had Achilles.

Hephaestion roused slowly, aware almost instantly of a solid weight pressing against his shoulder. His confusion was only momentary, his nose becoming aware of a scent that belonged to only one person. Alexander. For the first time Alexander had remained through the night instead of slinking off like some thief in the pre-dawn hours.

Closing his eyes once again, Hephaestion silently entreated Apollo to slow his course so that he could enjoy the feel of Alexander sleeping peacefully in his embrace a while longer.

A cool hand touched his brow, drawing him away from his memories. Try as he might, he could think of no time when he had been as content as when they had been at Mieza. Without politics or his warring parents to muddy things up, he had been able to see Alexander as he truly was. So he wanted those memories to be forefront, the last thing he was aware of when the three sisters finally took pity on him.

A smile curving his lips, Hephaestion lifted a hand to run through Alexander's hair....