THE FALL (Rapha Chronicles #1) (The Rapha Chronicles) (26 page)

Tomorrow marked the day the boys would bring their own sacrifice, the day when they shouldered responsibility for their relationship with Adonai.

How Rapha’s heart went out to Abel who planned to sacrifice his special pet, a yearling calf fed and coddled by the boy’s hand from birth. All the family loved the spoiled beast who had a habit of poking his head through the stone window of Abel’s room each morning to wake him and request breakfast.

Rapha looked down the hill where the brothers were having a contest with their spears, this time a test of accuracy. Cain went first, his muscles rippling as he grasped the weapon, his eye riveted to the target, a particular knot on a tree. With a grunt of effort he stepped forward and released the spear that flew, unwavering, slicing the morning’s quiet with a whiz and thud as the point landed in the direct center of the knot. Cain leapt and gave a shout of victory. Then, laughing, he stepped aside for Abel to have his turn.

Rapha watched Abel take aim. Like Cain, Abel was stunning. Tall and perfectly proportioned, the lad cut a slightly leaner figure than Cain whose muscles were thick from working the land. In wrestling and contests of brute strength, Cain continued to hold the advantage while Abel remained quicker and more agile. Both boys had abundant hair they kept secured at the base of their neck. Although Cain’s hair remained lighter, both sported locks that reflected the sun’s rays with multi-hued brilliance.

The most remarkable feature for both, however, was their eyes, eyes that fluctuated in color according to whether the day was overcast, misty, or sunny, growing more colorful when the light was bright and dimming to a uniform darkness when it was faint. And when the boys stared into the sun or even watched flames dance in the fire, light would stir in their eyes until they blazed with an answering glow.

Now, Abel had his eyes riveted to the mark where Cain’s spear yet quivered in the sun’s rose-colored glow. Though the scene around them was tranquil, a just-waking world of mist-shrouded mountains and a lazy breeze, Rapha leaned forward, left hand clenched as if it bore the spear’s weight.

When the spear flew, Rapha once more marveled at the perfection of Abel’s technique, graceful and effortless, every movement flowing like a dance down to the extension of the fingertips that remained poised in the air as if willing the shaft to his desire.

Rapha gasped. The spear was slicing toward its target, closer and closer on an impossible collision course until, with an audible crack, it splintered the shaft Cain had thrown, knocking it aside and taking its place in the center of the tree’s trunk. With a whoop of joy, Abel ran to reclaim his weapon.

But Rapha’s amazement turned to shock when he looked at Cain. The young man’s eyes were narrowed and his lips were pulled back in a feral expression while every line of his body strained toward Abel, a beast lunging against invisible bonds. However, when Abel turned toward his brother, the tension was gone as if it had been a mirage and Cain was simply a disgruntled brother conceding defeat.

The lightning transformation was alarming… and familiar.

Was this talent to mask feelings ingrained or taught?

The second possibility sent a grim shiver down Rapha’s spine. Could it be Lucifer had gained access to the boys—under his very nose?

Rapha continued to study them. This time, Abel was first to throw. As the lad focused on the mark, Cain stood a few paces behind, weighing the heavy shaft in his hand. When Abel raised his spear, Cain matched the movements, his eyes riveted to his brother’s back. Time seemed to slow as Rapha felt cold dread grip his being. Cain’s arm was back. He was stepping toward the point of release. His shoulder rippled with power as the shaft passed his ear, its point still aimed at Abel.

Cain was extending, mirroring Abel. A cry lodged in Rapha’s throat just as Abel released his spear… and Cain completed the movement, spear shaft still gripped in his fingers, its length pointing at Abel.

When Abel’s spear embedded in the direct center of his target, Cain smiled, his eyes still on Abel’s back.

As the day progressed, so did Rapha’s concern. Later, he approached the wall of smooth stones that enclosed the nursing ewes and their lambs in time to hear Cain’s teasing voice say, “That is just because she preferred
me
.”

“How would she know who she preferred? I never even spoke to her.”

“Because you ran away,” Cain laughed, “a scared little boy.”

There was a “whump” as Rapha rounded the wall in time to see Abel launch himself at his brother and push Cain’s face into the dirt. “I’ll show you who’s scared,” Abel declared.

Usually Rapha would have had a vicious struggle before him to end the brothers’ fight but as soon as Abel was aware of Rapha’s presence he jumped off his brother, face flushed and surprised. Cain leapt to his feet, a calm expression flowing over his features like a mask.

“Rapha,” Cain began brushing dirt from his garment. “Did you need us?”

“No. I was coming to retrieve the lamb for tomorrow’s sacrifice.” Rapha paused, “Who is
she
?”

Abel shot a glance toward Cain whose face remained serene. “Our mother, of course. What other ‘she’ do we know besides cattle?”

And Cain had looked calmly into Rapha’s eyes, without a shred of guilt for the lie.

That night, when Adam gathered the boys to impress once again the importance of the sacrifice, Rapha’s apprehension increased.

“Tomorrow, you are responsible before Adonai to provide your own sacrifice,” Adam stated. “Your mother and I pass that responsibility on to you. In this way you choose obedience to Adonai and continue the protection from our enemy.”

“Yes, father,” Cain interrupted. “You have told us the story many times. We know.”

“But it is good to hear it again,” Abel cut in, “since we need to remember, without the shedding of blood, we are vulnerable.” His eyes shot toward Cain who smiled and ruffled his brother’s hair.

“Have you decided on your sacrifice, Cain?” Adam asked. “The animal will need to be prepared….”

“All is prepared,
Father
,” Cain cut in. “As you have said, it is
my
responsibility,” Cain’s words were clipped but he added a smile. “It is a surprise.”

“How about you?” Adam turned to Abel. “You know, son, another calf would do. There is no reason it has to be—”

“Should I choose what means less to me?” Abel asked. “No. This one has been committed to Adonai before his birth. I will fulfill my vow before the Most High. Only the most precious is worthy to be placed upon the altar. Anything less would dishonor Him.”

Adam clapped Abel on the back as Eve choked back a sob and leapt to embrace her son. “We are so proud of you.” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes as she kissed Abel’s cheek.

Even Kal had turned away, wiping a sleeve across his eyes.

But Adam’s gaze had followed Cain’s quiet exit, his brow knit with concern.

The next day unfolded in a cacophony of beauty, triumph… and pain.

At midday, they prepared to trudge the path to the family altar, each accompanied by their sacrifice: a milky white lamb for Adam and Eve; a strong ram for Rapha; a gentle goat for Kal, which he carried across his shoulders; and, of course, Abel’s calf, who trotted beside the boy without harness, happy to be next to his master.

But no Cain.

“Where is your brother?” Adam asked Abel.

“He refused to come, father,” Abel replied. “I tried. I begged. But he wouldn’t listen.”

To Rapha, it felt as if the sun had just been stolen from the sky. Never had the trek up the mountain seemed so steep or grueling as each step widened the gulf between Cain and his family.

By the time they reached the summit and the stone altar lay before them, each member of their party was stealing glances back down the path. As the animals were fed their final meal, choice grain mixed with plentiful fruit of the vine to calm them, Eve’s tears flowed. When the other sacrifices had been offered and Abel led forth his calf, all were weeping.

Just as Adam spoke the sacred words and lifted the knife to slay the calf, his upraised arm froze and the others turned to see what held his gaze.

There was Cain trudging toward them, two large baskets hanging from a pole across his shoulders. They rushed toward him with joy, relieved he would not remove himself from Adonai’s protection. Then, one by one, their steps faltered and confusion replaced their relief.

“Son, where is your sacrifice?” Adam voiced the question on all their minds.

“Here.” Cain whipped out a dirt-encrusted harvest tool from the sash at his waist and sliced the ropes that held the baskets to the branch across his shoulders. Leafy vegetables, fruit and grain spilled onto the ground at Adam’s feet.
“Father.”
The defiance in his eyes begged confrontation.

“Why you foolish—” Kal leapt forward but Adam held out a hand to restrain him.

“Cain, I don’t think you realize—”

“What? That this is not the way things have always been done? Maybe it’s time for change.”

“But, the sacrifice—” Eve began, but Cain cut her off as well.

“Is right here.” He waved a hand over the spilled produce. “I know what I am doing, Mother.” He looked toward his brother. “Do you?”

Abel glanced with regret toward the calf that bawled on the altar.

“If Adonai loves you so much, why would he cause you pain?”

Abel doubled over with a sob.

“That’s enough, Cain.” Adam strode forward and stood between them, “On this mountain we worship Adonai with our best. You dishonor Him with those words. You dishonor us.”

“No, it is a good question. I have wondered the same,” Abel admitted. “I don’t understand.” With slow steps he made his way toward the calf and reached a hand to scratch behind the animal’s ears. Immediately the lowing ceased and the liquid eyes fixed on his master. Although Abel was encased in the body of a man more than three hand breadths taller than Adam, in that moment he was just a boy grappling with powerful emotions as large tears coursed down the still-smooth cheeks.

“Adonai asks for obedience, not understanding.”

After a long moment, his left hand remained stroking the calf’s head, but with the other he reached toward the knife still grasped by Adam, and, meeting his father’s eye, gave a slight shake of his head.

Adam struggled to mask his shock. He placed a hand on Abel’s shoulder. “You can choose another. Adonai will understand.”

Abel wrenched the knife from Adam’s hand.

“Then we have truly failed,” Eve whispered.

“Think of what you are doing,” Kal shouted.

“Yes, brother. It’s time to throw off barbaric practices,” Cain said.

Abel leaned down and kissed the calf’s head. Then, with one hand over the animal’s eyes, the sacrificial knife fell.

Silence.

For a moment, all were too stunned to move or speak.

The boy froze, still gripping the knife that was wedged in the calf’s heart, a mask of pain on his young face.

When Abel melted over his calf and wept, a white mist that hummed with power descended on the mountain and all fell to their knees as a piercing light from on high settled on the grief-stricken boy.

Then came a voice that shook the ground.

“You are fully Mine. Your stain is cleansed. The favor of The Most High is upon you. From this day forth, the blood of your sacrifice shall resound throughout the earth.”

As these words yet rang in the air, Cain began to back away.

“Cain,”
Adonai spoke again,
“what is this you have brought to my altar?”

“My… sacrifice,” Cain said. For a moment he stood, eyes locked on the ground. Suddenly Cain threw up his hands and turned away, his face tight with anger.

“Why are you angry? You know what is required. You can yet choose to turn from evil.”

“I have made my choice,” Cain said through clenched teeth.

“Please, son,” Adam reached toward him, “it is not too late.”

“I am
not
your son!” Cain spun to face Adam. “And I will not be kept from my true father any longer.”

“Lucifer will consume you, Cain,” Rapha warned.

“Don’t be a fool, boy,” Kal growled.

“Cain! Please!” Eve sobbed. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

For a brief instant, regret filled Cain’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Mother. I can’t… I’m… sorry.”

Then Cain turned and ran back down the mountain path.

Cain still had not made an appearance when the sun began to sink behind the mountains. Kal and Adam set off to seek him.

“Watch over Eve,” Adam instructed Rapha as he slung an extra skin of water over his shoulder.

“What will you do if you find him—put him in bonds and drag him back?” Rapha asked.

“I see no problem with that plan,” Kal mumbled.

“Maybe he will not return but I must do all I can,” Adam replied, then marched off into the fading light with Kal. When Eden loped from the dwelling to join them, Adam knelt down and caressed the shaggy head. “Stay here. Comfort her.”

Eden whined and licked Adam’s hand before the two men walked away, then she turned back and trotted to the dwelling.

Rapha watched her disappear into the entrance and a pall of grief descended on his heart as the late afternoon light cast shadows on what had been a happy home, a haven.

He could hear Eve praying in her room, her grief pouring from her lips in gasps. “Abba, Adonai! Save him from himself. Abba, Adonai! May Your love embrace him when I cannot. May he see through lies. May he long for You. May his heart turn toward home no matter where he goes,” she trailed off in a spasm of sobs.

Rapha stumbled as he felt the impact of her broken mother’s heart. He would go to her. She needed him.

But Adonai whispered the same directive Rapha had once heard in the Garden.

“Let it drive her to Me.”

He peeked into her window and saw Eden pressing close to her weeping mistress’ side.

Rapha stepped away from the dwelling.

In the deepening shadows he saw Abel skirting the sheepfold, his sash wrapped around his head and shoulders as if to remain unseen.