Part XI

"ALEXANDER!"

The instant the he heard Seleucus' shout, Alexander was sprinting back in the direction of the camp. There was no mistaking the panic in the other man's voice. He met up with Seleucus halfway and was directed towards his own tent with a frantic, "Hurry." Hephaestion was dying, Alexander was fairly certain. Somehow he had injured himself in his wanderings the night before and now he was dying. There was no other explanation for it because Hephaestion had been under guard.

There was a crowd gathered around his tent when he arrived. A crowd whose faces were etched in panic and fear. Not seeing his father, Amyntor or Cleitus, Alexander approached cautiously. He trembled and shook as he reached for the flap of the hide tent, his fingers gliding over the embroidered edges before latching on. Very slowly, Alexander pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the tent.

Less than three paces in was a body lying with its throat slashed almost all of the way through.

Yet even through all of the blood he could see that it was not Hephaestion and his knees nearly sagged with relief. The dead boy was a few years younger than them and had hair far too dark to be Hephaestion.

"Alexander, here."

The summons was spoken in a whisper by his father and what Alexander saw stole the breath from his body. Hephaestion, crouched in a far corner of the tent. He was blood-spattered, his left arm wrapped about his drawn up knees and right arm resting across the top of them. In his right hand he held a short knife gripped tightly and held out before him. There was no recognition in Hephaestion's eyes.

"Hephaestion?" Alexander murmured as he slowly crossed towards his love.

Hephaestion's entire body stiffened and he raised the knife slightly. "You will not touch me." The voice that spoke those words was that of a corpse, utterly devoid of any sign of life. "You will not use me."

"Please, Phae, give me—"

Alexander's words died in his throat as Hephaestion's blade flashed towards his own neck, the tip of it piercing his flesh as he began to drag it across. In an instant, Alexander was at Hephaestion's side, wrestling with the injured man for control of the weapon. He was able to get the knife away from Hephaestion's throat without inflicting any further damage, but Hephaestion did not easily relinquish the weapon. Hephaestion was all but insensible, screaming and spitting and fighting with a tenacity that Alexander had not expected.

In the end it took him, Philip and Amyntor to restrain Hephaestion long enough for the physician to press a drugged cloth over Hephaestion's mouth and nose that made him sleep. Alexander did not realize that he was shaking until his father placed a hand on his arm to turn him away from Hephaestion. He instinctively reached for his lover and cried out at the shock of pain when his palm clamped down over Hephaestion's wrist.

"Easy, lad, you cut yourself trying to get the knife from him," his father murmured as he dumped a cupful of water over Alexander's injured hand. Alexander winced, his fingers jerking inwards. "The cut is not deep, but Philip will make the final prognosis on whether it will be stitched or not."

Alexander gulped in several lungfuls of air before he managed to choke out a quiet, "What happened?"

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"What happened?"

Philip wished that there was an answer he could give to his son. But he had none at the moment. All that Philip knew was what he had seen with his own two eyes and that was the dead boy on the ground and Hephaestion's irrational state. How either came to be that way he did not know, nor would he until Hephaestion became more aware of himself. If he had not already lost himself completely.

"Father?"

With a gruff sigh, Philip shook his head. "I do not know. There was a scream and by the time we arrived it was finished."

"Why was no one guarding him?"

"That was one of his guards," Philip said, nodding towards the corpse of the dead page. One of his own pages. There were others out looking for the second, but he did not hold out much hope of him being found alive.

Even before Philip finished tying the bandage around his cut hand, Alexander was already sliding towards Hephaestion. The other boy was a bloody mess, only some of which was his own. Yet it was not the blood that worried Philip the most. It was Hephaestion's mind. The extended abuse had obviously been far more damaging than any of them had thought. Much more damaging than his physical injuries.

The instant that Philip released his hand Alexander was crawling one-handed across the short distance to Hephaestion. Philip did not think a chasm appearing between them would keep Alexander from Hephaestion then.

"Phae," Alexander moaned, winding his fingers through the other boy's. "Gods, Phae, what has happened to you?"

Philip doubted very much that Alexander was aware of anyone outside of Hephaestion at that moment. He was leaning over the unconscious youth, fingers ghosting through the shorn hair and staring at his face with such intensity that Philip thought he expected to decipher the course of events from Hephaestion's features alone. Given the relationship the two boys shared, it was not entirely improbable.

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Hephaestion lay as still as death. His rest was unnatural; drugged. However, his state of mind when he had been conscious was far more frightening than his enforced sleep. At least asleep there was a chance for him to recover from his attempt to take his own life. He had hoped that it would not come to such things, but sadly his only ability lay in healing bodies, not the mind. Such things would be left up to others. Philip could not help but wonder whether an eighteen year old boy was enough for such a challenge.

Thankfully, whatever strength Hephaestion had possessed had been expended on his assailant and he had not injured himself severely. The blood loss was minimal and Philip hoped that it would not hinder his physical recovery much. The boy had certainly displayed his strength and determination over the past month which gave Philip reason enough to hope.

"Will he be all right?"

It took Philip a moment to figure out just who had spoken because he could not recall ever hearing Alexander sound so uncertain. He had cared for the boy his entire life, been present for his birth, yet even the squalling infant protesting his abrupt entry into the world had sounded far more sure of himself than Alexander did right then. Philip had never before realized just how much of Alexander was wrapped up in Hephaestion. Nor had he ever believed that it was possible for two individual beings to be so intimately connected. He now could not help but fear what would happen if one lost the other.

"Physically, he will recover."

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Hephaestion had nearly been stolen from him once again. Never once had Alexander even contemplated that he could loose Hephaestion to himself. Hephaestion had always been so strong. He could overcome anything. He was the one that Alexander had always counted on to be strong for him. Alexander had never thought that Hephaestion could be broken in such a way.

"Can we take him home soon?" Alexander asked, forcing his eyes away from Hephaestion. "I want to gone from Illyria."

Philip balled up a bloody rag and set it aside. "Another two days and even then I would prefer him to travel by litter. He is too weak for horseback."

Despite himself, Alexander let out a snort of mirthless laughter. "He just killed a man. I would hardly consider Hephaestion weak."

"A momentary burst of strength only."

As much as he wanted to deny the words, Alexander could not. Hephaestion looked so vulnerable then, so weak. That was not something he had ever thought to equate with Hephaestion. His lover was strong. He always had been. That calm, inner strength was one of the things that had drawn him to Hephaestion when they were young. Even when they were children, Hephaestion had been so sure of himself and his place in the world; something that Alexander had envied him for. That was all gone now and Alexander wished that he knew how to give it back to him.

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"I want to take Hephaestion straight to Mieza."

Even though it should not have, Alexander's words still caught him completely off guard. Amyntor had already mentally been going over a list of things that he would need to arrange in order to comfortably transport his son back to Athens when the boy had spoken. After what they had learned from the foreman his only concern was getting Hephaestion as far away from Macedon and its Epirot queen as possible. He had cousins that lived in Argos; Hephaestion would be safe there.

"Hephaestion is not going to Mieza," Amyntor informed the prince. "He will return with me to Athens where I can keep him safe."

"I can protect Hephaestion," the boy insisted, straightening his back defiantly. "I can keep him safe."

Amyntor allowed his expression to soften a bit in the face of Alexander's certainty. "I have no doubt that you possess the will to do so, but the fact that affairs have reached such a state proves otherwise. Hephaestion was taken right out from under your very nose and it was a month before you knew to do something about it."

"I knew from the very start," Alexander insisted, grey eyes hard as forged metal. "I knew only I could not prove it so I had no choice but to wait."

"That does not change the fact that my son is not safe in Macedon."

There was no mistaking the protective stance that Alexander took over Hephaestion then; a lion standing guard over its mate. It would be next to impossible to separate him from Hephaestion except by force. Not that Amyntor had any intention of separating them; he simply would not allow his son to remain in Macedon. Not while the Epirot witch remained.

"Please do not take him from me," Alexander pleaded with him. "Do not separate us again."

"I do not intend to separate you. I only mean to keep my son safe."

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Alexander understood completely the reasons behind Amyntor's decisions for he felt much the same. He wanted Hephaestion to be safe, they both did, only Alexander did not want his love to be taken away from him. Not now that he knew that Hephaestion would still be in danger even if he left Macedon. There was nowhere Hephaestion could go to escape himself.

"Take his shoulders so that we can place him back on the bed."

It was a moment before Alexander realized that the physician's words were directed at him. That Hephaestion was still lying on the ground where he had fallen, the knife resting near his out-stretched hand. A knife slathered with Hephaestion's blood. A hand on his shoulder brought Alexander out of his musing and back to the present. Back to Hephaestion who looked as though he was hovering on the borderlines of life and death.

"I have him," Alexander murmured when he saw Cleitus reaching for Hephaestion's legs. "I do not need help."

Gathering Hephaestion up in his arms, Alexander struggled to his feet. He wavered momentarily, a hand on the small of his back steadying him. It was only a few steps to the cot and he was reluctant to set Hephaestion down. The trembling in his arms forced him to release his love. Alexander was very careful as he set Hephaestion down, not wanting to injure him further.

At that moment, more than anything, Alexander wanted to spirit Hephaestion away on Bucephalas. He wanted to ride as fast and as far as he could to a place where he and Hephaestion could live out their lives in peace. Unfortunately, Alexander did not believe that such a place existed.

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His limbs felt as though they were being weighed down; his head equally heavy. The amount of effort that it took to coax his fingers into moving was almost more than he wanted to expend. It was almost as though he were underwater, his senses no longer quite so alert as they had once been. Even so, there was no mistaking the presence at his side.

"Hephaestion?"

Alexander was with him. He had come back.

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There was still no sign of the second page, but his presence was not necessary to determine what had happened in the tent. The pages had meant to kill Hephaestion and had been unprepared for their victim to fight back. Alexander himself would not have thought Hephaestion capable of the brutality of the page's death when he had gone with his father to meet with the foreman. Hephaestion had barely been able to make it out of the tent under his own power that morning and in the afternoon he had killed someone. Surely the gods had taken pity of him and given him the power to defend himself because Alexander could think of no other explanation.

"Tell me that my mother is not behind this. Tell me that she did not try to kill Hephaestion."

It was a moment before he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I cannot.... Now come, the foreman has brought the soldier."

"I will not leave Hephaestion again," Alexander insisted, shaking his head. "I will not risk his life."

"Cleitus and Ptolemy have volunteered to stay with him. He will be safe."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Alexander reluctantly turned his gaze away from Hephaestion and towards his father. "I cannot leave him, father. Please do not ask me to."

"I am not asking you to. I am telling you to," Philip said, his kindly expression doing nothing to mask the seriousness of his words. "You are a prince, Alexander, descended of Heracles himself. It is not always possible for you to do as you desire. There are times that what you desire will be in direct conflict with what is required of you. This is one of those times. Now come. Do your duty to Hephaestion and confront his attacker while he is unable to."

Reluctant as he was to leave Hephaestion, Alexander knew that he must. He should be there to face the man who had brutalized Hephaestion. He should be the one to avenge his love. Pressing a kiss to Hephaestion's forehead, Alexander rose slowly to his feet and followed his father from the tent. As he stepped into the fading afternoon light, Cleitus squeezed his forearm before moving past him and into the tent. Cleitus would protect Hephaestion. He had to. Alexander did not think he could stomach another misfortune befalling Hephaestion.

Alexander did not say a word as they made their way towards the mines. He could see the foreman, as well as the soldier in question who was surrounded by guards. The soldier who had raped and tormented Hephaestion for a month. He had systematically tried to destroy Hephaestion, and quite possibly on Olympias' orders. His own mother. She had not been content with merely killing Hephaestion, she had tortured him. Played with him like one of the rats she fed to her snakes. He could do nothing about his mother's involvement then, but he could still avenge Hephaestion.

Despite the fact that he was chained and beaten, the Epirot soldier did not show the least bit of concern for his situation. The man was smug, confident, and smile directly at Alexander as he approached.

"You vile, despicable...." Alexander snarled as he stalked ahead of his father.

"Alexander!"

He still had never beat Hephaestion in wrestling, but Alexander easily slithered away from the hands grasping at him. Trying to hold him back; to stop him from avenging his beloved. And the soldier was laughing, smirking as he watched Alexander's approach. Gloating over what he had done to Hephaestion. He felt no remorse whatsoever and Alexander did not doubt would have cared when he had killed Hephaestion.

"Alexander!"

"Monster!"

Alexander was close enough that no one could stop him from stabbing his knife into the soldier's chest. Again and again until that smile was no longer on his face. Until that smirk slid from his features and he slumped to the ground.

"You will never touch him again," Alexander snarled, the knife tumbling from his fingers. "Never."

Turning on his heel, he strode away from the mine and back towards the camp. Back to Hephaestion who was safer now than he had been an hour before. Though still not as safe as Alexander could make him.

"Alexander!"