THE FALL (Rapha Chronicles #1) (The Rapha Chronicles) (11 page)

Adam gasped and spun to face the man, his body coiled and ready to fight. “Are you my enemy?”

“No,”
the quiet voice replied.

Adam studied the speaker who was bathed in the radiance reflected from Adam’s body but the man’s face remained in shadow due to the long piece of cloth that draped over his head.

“Lucifer would lie. How can I believe you?”

“You must discern,”
the man said.
“Your eyes and ears can be deceived but your heart sees truth.”

“My heart does not have eyes. How can it see?”

“Seek the memory of communion with Adonai. That is your foundation and your confidence. That is where your vision is clear.”

Adam was quiet a moment. “But I’ve been told Lucifer would say anything to make me believe him.”

The man did not answer.

Adam’s brow furrowed with concentration even as he kept a wary eye on the visitor. “Why do you hide your face?”

“I am hidden from eyes that do not see.”

“Uncover your face and I will see just fine,” Adam leapt toward the man and grabbed for the concealing length of cloth—but a fire flashed, and for a split second the night was brighter than day. When all was dark and silent again, Adam was dumb, blind, and trembling at the man’s feet.

Adam’s shoulders began to shake and a sob broke from his mouth.

“My child, why do you fear?”
The man’s voice was gentle and when he touched Adam, the boy’s tongue was loosed.

“I do not have the power to fight you. I do not have the power to, to protect
her
.”

“You do not lack power. What you lack is humility. A humble man would ask the Father for whatever he needs, and receive it.”

Adam’s head shot up. “Then I will ask the Father for power.”

“And you would still be defeated,”
the man’s quiet voice stated.

“You lie! Adonai has power over everything.”

“And Adonai obeys His own law. Authority is given according to law.”

“Authority? Does this authority give power?”

“Yes. It is the right to rule.”

“Then that is what I need. I will
humbly
ask the Father for authority.”

“It is already yours.”

“But, I am helpless before you.”

“Your authority is of this Earth. It does not extend to Me.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me who you are.”

“As you have said, words could deceive. Come closer, child.”

But Adam remained unmoving.

“Tell me, how can you decide which trees in the garden provide what is good to eat?”

“Easy,” Adam said, “I see the fruit.”

“And that is how you should decide if you can trust me.”

“I do not see any branches or leaves on you.”

“My words and actions are my fruit. If I draw you closer to the Father, I am a good tree.”

Adam squatted down, still wary, and watched as the man gathered kindling to add to a small mound of wood. In a few moments a cheerful blaze crackled and the man brought forth a simple meal of fruit and nuts wrapped in savory leaves along with small cakes of what appeared to be several types of grain pressed together. He laid the cakes on a flat rock among the glowing embers.

When the man took a seat on a log and reached to stir the fire with a stick, for just a moment it flared and chased every shadow from his features. Adam’s jaw dropped and he stared. Rapha felt the boy’s surge of excitement.

“I know your eyes,” Adam whispered.

The man met Adam’s gaze and smiled.
“Will you come and eat?”

In answer, Adam inched closer and eased onto a rock within the circle of warm light.

The man poured water into a shallow bowl,
“To wash away the dust,”
he said, then returned to his seat to tend the cakes.

But Adam continued to stare, “I see Adonai in you.”

“Come, there is much to discuss.”

Adam moved as if in a dream to dip his hands into the water. “Please, tell me who you are.”

“I AM the Word of Adonai made flesh.”

The blank look on Adam’s face plainly showed he did not comprehend.

“I AM truth. I AM life. To know Me is to know Adonai.”

“But I
know
Adonai. Why did I not recognize you?”

“Because eyes are blind when clouded by fear,”
the man said, then poured more water, this time into a small wooden vessel. He handed it to Adam who, without hesitation, put it to his lips.

Immediately he gave an exclamation of surprise, “This is not water!”

“No. This is the fruit of My vine. Drink it and you will never thirst.”

Adam took a small sip. “It is wonderful,” he said, and then tilted his head to one side and peered once again at the man. “But Adonai is complete; He has no need of a body.” His eyes lit with suspicion once again, “He is the one true God. How can He be split in two?”

The man reached above him for a piece of fruit.
“You see this fruit. It is whole and yet it has three parts.”

Adam nodded but his eyes were still narrowed.

The man broke open the fruit and its aroma filled the air.
“Three separate and distinct parts—skin, flesh and seed—but all part of the whole. You also, like Adonai, are a union of three—spirit, soul, and body.”

“Yes, but why would Adonai separate the three?”

“The Father and I are One. Even in this humble form I AM complete. However, from me you will learn how to lead what is broken back to holiness.”

To Rapha, it seemed Adam absorbed the man’s words and melted in response. His shoulders sagged and his radiant face was bowed. “You remind me of my true purpose. Adonai has told me that through me the whole Earth will be blessed. Forgive me. I have been thinking only of her,” Adam’s shoulders slumped and a sigh escaped his lips, “of myself.”

“Well said.”
The man reached up to lay the hood of his cloak around his shoulders.
“Come here, my child.”
He extended a hand toward Adam who crept nearer to sit at the man’s feet.
“Rapha,”
his smile was wide as he addressed the angel,
“now that he believes I am not Lucifer, there are things to discuss.”

Rapha stepped out of the shadows as Adam and the man shared their meal. Mostly the conversation dealt with Adam’s role in the earth and how his authority, awarded by Adonai, was what Lucifer truly desired.

“He would corrupt everything again if given the chance. He desires to bring pain to Adonai by bringing pain to His creation. Yes, Lucifer is here and he is seeking a weakness. You must not listen to him. He is beautiful and he knows how to twist truth to his purposes. Do not listen to his words. Do not desire his fruit. It is poison. To be like him will seem irresistible; so do not even look upon him. And do not think a sample of what he offers will be safe. With just a taste of his corruption your body will know death, and then all creation will fall under his authority.

“Look around you, Adam. All is laid at your feet. This one thing only, Lucifer’s corruption, the fruit of his tree, is forbidden.”

The man spoke with Adam until a brilliant strip of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Then he leaned toward the boy and kissed him on the forehead. Rapha smiled, his own heart overflowing with the look of bliss on Adam’s face.

Immediately, the man was gone.

The next day, while Adam slept, the girl decided to do some exploring on her own. She dug with fervor, exposing a fascinating, hidden world just beneath the grass and moss. Rapha lounged, unseen, high in a neighboring tree. Of late his anxiety had grown so he tried to keep an eye on the young people even when they desired privacy. When they bathed or took care of other private matters he retreated, but at all times he stayed attuned to their emotions. Even during their slumber he remained alert, knowing the enemy’s preference for vulnerability. Unbeknownst to his charges, other angels also formed a protective circle during those hours.

One other factor had heightened Rapha’s watchfulness. Adam and his betrothed were coming of age. Adams body was thickening, his voice changing and the peach fuzz on his cheeks darkening. The girl also had come to maturity. The scent of her blood on the wind was unmistakable. This development, other than sending her to bathe more often, had caused little disturbance to her daily routine, but to Rapha, so well acquainted with Lucifer’s ways, it felt like a red flag waved above the trees, marking her location.

Later, when Adam came through the bushes, his eyes still puffy from sleep, the young woman smiled a greeting from the pit she had dug and brushed the hair from her face, leaving a dark smudge on her forehead.

“I need to talk to you,” Adam announced in a serious tone.

“Look at this! I can’t even get to the bottom of these roots! They go down so much deeper than the ones by the river. It’s just like Rapha said. The water is harder to reach so their roots are longer.”

Adam’s face lost a bit of concern for heavier matters as he watched her back where her dazzling garment dipped below her shoulders that strained at the earth, but he shook his head to clear it and addressed her again, “Please, this is important.”

“I’m listening,” she replied, then grabbed at something and proudly extracted a tiny green lizard.

“Listen!” Adam commanded and reached for her hands. She watched with a pout as the startled lizard ran away, but she soon realized that Adam still held her hands. For a moment they both stared at the joining until Adam grinned and opened her soil-encrusted palms. “They’re very… um… dirty,” he murmured as he brought her hands to his lips.

Rapha watched from his high perch, observing what human eyes could not see, a magnetic intertwining of their souls. But the expressions of alert, breathless fascination said it all. Their bodies longed to follow suit. Rapha hoped he would not have to intervene should their attraction prove overwhelming.

Eyes wide, the girl pulled her hands away and slapped them together a few times. “So what’s so important?”

Adam looked away from her body, from the compelling garment of light that followed her gentle curves. He clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath as if to shake away the cloud from his mind caused by gazing at her. When he spoke again, his voice was stern. “I have spoken to Adonai about Lucifer. He said to stay away from him. We… cannot have anything to do with him, especially we cannot
touch
him, or we’ll die.” So the message was a bit befuddled. At the moment, Adam was feeling proprietary; he didn’t want her touching
anyone
but himself.

She returned to her digging, a bit perplexed. “It feels strange.” She slapped at the soil. “I don’t see what’s so scary about one banished angel. Doesn’t Adonai trust our judgment at all?”

Adam watched her back as she dug. Finally, he wiped a hand across his forehead, leaving a brown streak to match hers, and turned to move away through the trees.

She prattled on. “After all, he
lost
, right? And what does
‘we will die’
even mean?” She looked over her shoulder to discover she was alone. “Adam? Where are you?”

Chapter Nine

Sabotage

It was several hours later when Rapha sought Adam. The young man, like the young woman in her moment of crisis, had taken his frustration to Adonai and, once again, the Maker’s words had brought order from confusion. With the sun at its highest point in the sky, Adam perched in the trees, a bemused expression on his face. For a few moments after Rapha joined him, the boy was silent.

Rapha could not recall the last time he had been first to speak. Sensing the boy’s emotions, he broke the silence with the rhetorical question, “You are pleased with Adonai’s gift?”

Adam sputtered a moment as if he had lost the gift of speech. “All I could say was, ‘Thank you.’ I am so amazed by what Adonai has created, the joy that will be ours when she and I… when we are joined.” Adam paused. “I believe her rightful name is ‘Glory’ since that is what Adonai says she is. He said her well-being and joy are my glory. As I care for her in the same way Adonai cares for me, she will be like this well-tended garden, rewarding my life and offspring with sustenance, protection, and joy.”

Then Adam spread his arms wide as if to embrace all of creation. “She is my ‘Glory’!” he shouted to the heavens. “She is Adonai’s precious gift. As I honor her above all creation our joy shall be like the sun, rising in the sky until all are blessed by its light!”

Adam was so giddy he almost fell from his perch. He flailed and grabbed at the branch on which he sat to regain his balance and began to laugh. The young man’s joy was infectious. Soon Rapha too was laughing as Adam shook the entire tree with his mirth… nearly losing his balance once more.

“Perhaps her name should be ‘Wine’ since even the thought of her has intoxicated you,” Rapha teased, causing Adam’s laughter to explode once again. “Or ‘Hyena’ because she makes you sound like one of them.”

As they continued the mindless jests, tears streamed from Adam’s eyes and Rapha was swept with a hilarious drunkenness, the likes of which he had never experienced in his eons of existence. A glimpse of the power of mankind’s melding with Adonai pierced his consciousness. By discovering the Maker’s goodness like the petals of an unfolding flower, humans drank richly of each revealed aspect of His fathomless personality. In this way, ignorance was a blessing, like discovering treasures around every corner. Rapha understood Adonai’s immense power, love and holiness—had understood for time immemorial—but when was the last time he had been drunk with joy about it?

But even in this moment, Rapha felt Lucifer’s piercing gaze upon him. Lucifer’s jealousy was a choking vapor paralyzing his mind even as Adam’s joy made his soul take flight. Rapha felt his being would be ripped in two by the warring emotions.

A malicious chuckle filled his heart and Lucifer’s unbidden message accosted his mind.
“Timing, old friend. That’s all. Simple timing.”

The young woman moved with swift strokes through clear turquoise depths. How she treasured the quiet, pre-dawn moments when she could melt into the water and flow with the swishings, flutterings and murmurings of a gently waking world. Adam still slept. Again he had conversed with Adonai late into the evening, long after she had succumbed to slumber.

The conversations with their Maker were always fascinating. He had a way of making the complex and confusing simple. Often she and Adam would cry out something like, “Oh! I understand…” or, “Of course! Why didn’t I see that?” as He opened their minds and wove truth from the rough fibers of their knowledge.

Her reaction to this knowledge differed from Adam’s. While discovery would excite the boy and cause him to beg for more, she would sit back and ponder, turning the wisdom this way and that in her mind, taking what was revealed and polishing it until, a few moments later, she broke her silence with a provocative question.

Just last evening when she had brought up her discoveries about the tree roots, that they will continue to dig until they reach water, Adonai had pointed to the largest tree on their mountain, the very one she and Adam had climbed with Rapha. He had described the years of patient growth that had taken those mighty roots through solid rock until, if they cut away the face of the mountain, they would be able to follow those stubborn tendrils down into the mountain’s very core.
“No mere wind or rushing water will topple it. In fact, its roots reach even deeper and wider into the ground than the branches reach into the sky.”

Adam had talked about the long skinny birches and the fat berry bushes, asking if their roots resembled what was seen. As Adonai explained how each tree and bush balanced underground what was needed above, the girl’s mind had developed a wrinkle right down its center. Adam, noticing her silence, had teased her, “Don’t worry, Glory. You can start digging first thing in the morning. The roots will wait.”

But she had locked eyes with her Maker, almost afraid of the outcome of her thoughts. “Do the trees outside this garden, those that have to dig deeper for water, have deeper roots?”

“That is the natural way of things, is it not?”
He had answered.

It was just enough to encourage her to venture forward, “You have often compared
us,
me and Adam, to a tender young tree You nurture and protect.”

Adonai had nodded.

“You have also said the trees have to get stronger before they can bear the fruit that feeds many.”

In that tense moment, it had seemed to her all creation, even Adonai, leaned in to hear her conclusion. The bold adventurer in her stood ready to beat a path through uncharted trails, but there was also a pampered princess, a side of herself she had never acknowledged, who wanted to shut her eyes to truth.

Glory’s next words were almost a whisper. “But what of a tree that has constant water and never leans into a fierce wind and is… protected from all harm?” Her eyes were fixed on her clenched hands. “Would that tree be strong or would its roots be shallow?”

She had gazed into those all-knowing eyes and found the painful answer. She had begun to weep. In her short, glorious life she had known no pain or lack, yet now she felt, through those eyes, a connection with bitter grief. Glory had drawn as close to Adonai as possible and buried her face in His chest. She had no idea how long she remained, feeling like her heavy heart was exiting through her eyes. Eventually she had become aware that Adam was weeping on the Master’s other side. Adam also understood. She and Adam were that tree. Their roots had to be strong, digging down into unshakeable rock, to fulfill their destiny. They had known nothing but joy and laughter. What was this grief flowing through them from Adonai? Was He warning them? Preparing them?

But Glory had felt ushered into a much deeper knowledge of their Maker and therefore she could not regret the pain. Nestling in His side and sharing the emotions of His heart made the moment not just bearable but beautiful.

Rapha was attuned to Glory as he entered the garden’s workshop, the sweet fragrance of grapevines and flowering vines greeting him as he brought out the golden crowns, the same crowns that had sealed their betrothal and would now grace their shining heads as they were wed. He had only to set the gems that would glitter like colorful stars as Adam and Glory stood before the garden’s inhabitants and the attending celestial hosts. He had arrived early to his post, eager to complete preparations. As soon as Adam woke, Rapha would share the good news with them—“Today is the day!”—but for now he would let the young man sleep and allow the young woman, Glory, her moment of tranquility and privacy.

Glory’s emotions at the moment were a bit befuddled—she was both sad and fulfilled—but she still flowed with Adonai’s presence, numbed yet enlivened as she marveled anew at colors, sounds, and fragrances that were present yesterday but overnight had gained intensity and loveliness. Rapha would not delve beyond that sense of her basic emotions. If there was a new revelation she chose to share with him, he wanted to hear it from her lips. He had discovered he enjoyed surprises.

Rapha had only observed the conversation last evening. Adonai had shut the angel’s inner senses to the young people; certain things should be kept between the Maker and His children. Thus the angel had retreated to the circle of celestial hosts awaiting their Lord’s will, while something miraculous occurred. Rapha’s senses might have been blocked but his eyes were not. The beauty of the two humans melting into Adonai’s being was breathtaking.

In those eternal moments, a paradigm shift had occurred. Rapha could not pinpoint exactly
what
had changed; he could only identify its effects. There was crystal clarity to the atmosphere that put him on high alert, yet it seemed born of acceptance, like heated gold that cools and conforms to the Master’s plan. He had returned at the appointed time to the celestial court to bask in his Maker’s love, his heart overflowing with gratitude for Earth’s bright future and the perfection of Adonai’s plan.

Glory dove deep, loving the caress of peaceful waters that soothed her muscles and renewed her overextended senses. Crying was a new sensation, cleansing yet exhausting, and deep recesses of her body ached with fulfillment and melancholy that escaped her understanding. However, she was at peace, like a rite of passage had been completed. Or was it just beginning? Regardless, Glory felt less… young than she had yesterday morning. But it was more than worth it. She would treasure those timeless moments with their Maker forever. Whatever it had cost was paid back in dazzling proportions.

She finished her swim and sat for a moment in the arc of waterfall where the cascade was gentle. From a little shelf behind the curtain of water she brought forth the covered stone bowls of toiletries Rapha had taught her to concoct. Their clean fragrance as she set aside stone lids and applied combinations of the garden’s fruits and oils to her skin and hair were like a concentrated day in Eden, fresh and freeing, teeming with the best Adonai and Earth had to offer.

A swim to her favorite sunning rock rinsed away the excess. Glory then dried Rapha-style by lying in the sun’s early-morning rays, the glow which always emanated from her body, warming, covering, and protecting her like a diaphanous raiment as she fingered her long curls into place. Beside her, a slender tree flourished, spreading its canopy of scarlet blossoms overhead, its decorative bower a gift from Adam who had coaxed the branches to lean over her favorite perch. Her thoughts turned the young man’s way accompanied by nervous flutterings in her stomach. Somehow, drawing nearer to Adonai had deepened her attachment to Adam as well. She recalled one of their early lessons where Rapha had illustrated how a third point added above the two points of a line created a triangle. Glory saw their relationship with Adonai that way. Moving closer to their Maker also heightened intimacy with her intended and gave a new dimension of substance to their relationship. She recalled the feeling of falling asleep last night cradled in Adonai’s arms with her fingers entwined in Adam’s. He had pressed her palm to his lips, unashamed of moistening them with his tears.

Knowing it would make him smile, she chose one perfect scarlet bloom and secured it in her curls.

The metaphors rolled as Rapha continued his work on the crowns that symbolized the humans’ destiny. When they were joined physically, their offspring would be the first fruits of Adonai’s new order, a people to shine in His hand, lighting the darkness like stars on a moonless night.

“The sooner the better,” Rapha mumbled, recalling the devastation outside these walls as he selected the centerpiece of Adam’s crown—a large, flawless diamond. He held it in place as he wove golden strands around the circlet, tamping the metal to affix the gem. He would continue this process, tapping, stretching, and molding until the crown would be ablaze with flawless stones.

As he worked he considered the effort required to complete even one of the precious gems.

The largest of diamonds, the central diadem, had been with Rapha during his burial by Lucifer and his fellow traitors. With the last of his physical strength he had reached toward the glow, wresting it from solid rock, and cupped it to his breast even as he had felt his own being tucked into Adonai. When he had woken, the gem was still in his hand. He had broken away the remaining dullness and carefully polished the diamond, treasuring it as a promise of hope during his darkest hour. He could think of no more fitting treasure to grace the brow of the promised one who would restore creation to its Maker.

As for the gold, the intense heating and purifying process had seemed endless. But he was creating a treasure to last millennia, not a bauble; therefore he had punished the precious substance until purity alone remained.

His tiny hammer stopped mid-swing. The Holy One was speaking to his heart.

“Rapha. Do you see?”

Yes. Adam and Glory were the treasure. Earth had been swept clean, purified, in order to bring them forth. They were the diadem, purified by Adonai’s loving hand.

An icy fear capsized his thoughts.
No!
He clapped his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to waylay the hideous train of thought, too harsh to bear. With a tremendous force of will he shoved down the growing dread and focused on one question,
“When?”