THE FALL (Rapha Chronicles #1) (The Rapha Chronicles) (31 page)

But the woman grabbed Kal’s hand that held the blade and pulled it to her chest. “Please don’t ask this of me,” Kal begged.

Moria put her other hand on the blade’s handle, “I am old enough to be your mother,” she said. “What would you do for her?”

The orange glow of torches lit the place where Kal knelt and a harsh voice said, “There! By the rock!”

Kal kissed the woman’s forehead and, with a sob, plunged in his knife. “Go with Adonai. I follow soon,” he whispered as he pulled out his blade and laid her on the ground.

He hesitated a split second, then his knife came down on a cord beside the rock. There was a whizzing noise as the arched tree beside him shot back. Shouts of pain and thuds of bodies followed along with more curses.

From beneath the rock Kal extracted his bow and a quiver of arrows.

Off he ran, slashing at branches and singing, “Incha, bincha, it’s a sincha!” at the top of his lungs. He led the enemy into hidden pits. Some were snatched up and dangled by a cord on their foot. Others followed Kal into a low-lying area and sunk down into clinging mud while he hopped safely across.

Closer to the mountain he led them, “Come lads! Don’t give up!” he taunted. The rocks rumbled behind him and more cries of pain filled the darkness.

“Good job, boys,” Kal breathed.

But always there were more. Finally, as the sky became tinged with gray, he was surrounded and shot his arrows, bringing down an enemy with each one and several more with his blade as the men closed in. In the midst of his fury Kal swung and dodged, oblivious to his many wounds. But when they dragged Eli and Jason into the light, Eden leapt, snarling, out of the brush and dove for the throat of the man who held them. The man dropped the boys and fell as Eden shook her head back and forth, ripping and tearing with vicious precision until one of the men pierced her with his sword.

Eden yelped and crumpled to the ground.

Kal released a primal yell and slashed his way through the surrounding men. An arrow slammed into his shoulder but he pushed forward and the whole group moved with him, slashing and stabbing while his own sword fell again and again.

Finally, with his back to a large rock he paused, panting as he faced them. “I have a secret,” he said in a sing-song voice.

Kal wagged his hindquarters and opened his bulbous eyes wide, “My father is King!” The arm with the arrow hung limp but Kal raised the other in acknowledgement as the men guffawed.

“The king of what? Fools?” One of the men shouted.

“He’s mad!” another jeered as they laughed and beat their blades against their wooden shields.

Kal stomped his foot with slow purpose, gradually increasing the pace until the blades joined his rhythm. The stomping became a hop, then a hop with a kick. Gradually the beat increased and Kal’s dance became more vigorous until he was cavorting like an agile monkey as the men gradually increased the speed, their whistles and laughter growing louder as he began to spin, his blade clearing a wide circle about him.

Suddenly Kal tripped and sprawled to the ground, gasping. Blood was dripping from his nose and mouth and seeping through his clothing in the many places he had been pierced.

“What? No more dancing, old man?” the leader stepped forward and kicked Kal in the stomach.

A fresh stream of blood gushed from Kal’s mouth. He spat then chuckled weakly, “Bow to your king, fool.”

Once more the leader kicked and his men joined in, punching, spitting and beating Kal with their fists.

Finally the leader leaned over Kal’s blood-covered body and said, “Come, oh king, let us worship you.”

He dragged Kal off the ground, and to the tree that some of the warriors had already stripped of its branches and hewn to a point at the top. Two groups of men climbed onto each other’s shoulders forming two columns and handed up Kal’s limp form as the rest yelled and beat their shields. Then they shoved Kal onto the tree, drowning out his cry of pain with their noise.

Soon, however, their shouts faltered.

“He is smiling,” one of the younger warriors observed.

“Mad to the end,” another said.

Suddenly the leader looked around, “Where are they? The boys?”

The others jostled and gazed about in confusion.

Eli, Jason, and Eden were gone.

The leader looked back to Kal’s smiling face and gave the command, “Push those branches beneath him.”

Soon flames licked up the shorn tree. But just as the fire reached Kal’s skin and he threw back his head with renewed agony, an arrow thudded into his chest and Kal’s head dropped forward.

Rage flooded the leader’s face and his head whipped toward the young soldier who had delivered the merciful bowshot. “He had suffered enough.” The soldier stated then stood his ground as the leader glared at him with murder in his eyes.

At last the leader’s gaze faltered and he backhanded one of the gawking warriors beside him. “Don’t just stand there. Tend wounds! Find food! Move!”

As the others turned to obey, the leader glanced over his shoulder toward the young soldier who still stood looking up at Kal’s mangled form.

Rapha took his hand off the bird’s head and it stepped back with a satisfied “Caw!”

“Thank you, my friend,” Rapha said.

The bird bobbed his head then flared his wings to resume his watchful perch on Kal’s shoulder.

Rapha looked up toward Kal’s blackened body.

With a cry of rage, Rapha shoved the tree with all his might, never pausing to remember that his strength to push trees had waned. But, whether from the power of his grief or due to the burning of the trunk, the tree broke at its base and Rapha was able to remove Kal from it.

For a full day and night Rapha did not move from the body of his friend but wept, begging Adonai to allow him to follow. But the heavens were silent. When he was once again aware of his surroundings, he discovered in the gray pre-dawn that a hollow-eyed Sheatiel had kept watch over him.

Her pain-stricken eyes seemed to read his soul as she reached to cup his cheek with her hand, “He was fortunate to have a friend like you. Kal is with
Him
now. His pain is over.”

Rapha nodded, unable to look away though his eyes felt gritty from his long vigil.

“The Holy One has spoken to my heart. He wants you to know it was not your fault. You are fulfilling your appointed role in this dark hour.”

The choking sob burst forth, a sudden rush that would not be denied, as Rapha felt the agony of recent days flood his being. Hardly realizing how he came to be in that position, Rapha found himself weeping on Sheatiel’s shoulder as Adonai’s presence flowed through her slight frame, filling his soul and overwhelming his exhausted body.

Her lips were at his ear and her hot tears mingled with his as Sheatiel whispered, “He is very pleased with you.”

Somehow, he felt enfolded in Adonai’s being as an unspeakable joy, a sensational overflow he had not thought to experience again until his sojourn on earth was over, wrapped him in quiet, contented, blinding perfection. Rapha was too overwhelmed to wonder why, all he could do was drink in Adonai’s breath as if he had been holding his own for a millennia.

The eternal moment stretched on as he felt every hurting nook of his existence flooded by the persistent, sweet, pervading holiness. Slowly, as if emerging from deep fathoms of liquid warmth, Rapha became aware that Sheatiel was slumped against him. A gentle snore told him she was fast asleep. Moving slowly so as not to wake her, Rapha inched Sheatiel onto his lap in order to carry her to where Eve was sleeping.

But when her head rolled against his chest and her small hand grasped a fold of his robe, Rapha stopped to enjoy the warm sense of companionship, the absence of alone-ness, that had become an accepted element of his circumstances. The feeling was so unexpected and sweet, he froze, gazing at Sheatiel’s velvety cheek and perfect, full lips, parted in the absolute peace of sleep only an innocent child enjoys.

Rapha felt a wave of rage as he considered Sheatiel at the hands of evil men who would abuse such beauty. He hugged her closer and ran his large hand through the shining hair, letting the rippling curls slide through his fingers. Again the blissful scent of Adonai was in the air. Again tears ran down his cheeks, this time for the horror and cruelty she had endured. How could Adonai
know
and not intervene?

Clearly the answer resounded in his heart, “
I AM intervening now… through you.”

And he was there, looking through Sheatiel’s eyes, feeling every violation, the sting of every blow, the despair and shock searing his mind to numbness. In the midst of this torture, the image of the Holy One, holding Sheatiel close in the same way Rapha held her, stroking the hair from her bloodied and bruised face, whispering endearments and weeping as Sheatiel lay, shivering and naked but too frozen inside to cover her body, hating herself too much to care.

Then came peace; Adonai covering her with his mantle of love, and healing, salving every wound, inside and out.

In her sleep, Sheatiel whimpered and buried her face in Rapha’s chest. Reflexively, his arms tightened around her and he whispered the language of heaven, his voice and heart slowing until there, on the hard ground at the site of Kal’s cruel death, Rapha too slept, breathing in the essence of her grief and freedom.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Love

The next few days, though filled with watchfulness and grief, became the most treasured of Rapha’s existence. Sheatiel, heavy with child and approaching the time to give birth, asked probing questions about Rapha’s origins and, because her eyes would come alive with hope, he divulged much more to her than he had to any other, telling her of that place where all enjoy immediate and unlimited access to Adonai’s throne.

“You have really been there?” she asked one day as they sat beside a chattering mountain stream braiding the grasses that grew beside the water.

“Yes.”

“But how do you survive?

“I eat, I breathe, I sleep—just like you.”

“No, no, no,” she laid a hand on his arm, her eyes searching his face. “How can you bear to be removed from…
Him
?”

With that question she exposed Rapha’s torment.

“I cannot bear it,” and his hands trembled as he began threading the rope into a tight spiral. “But I remain. Therefore I continue to breathe.”

After a moment’s silence Sheatiel said, “When I was alone in the wilderness, I came to a place where my food and water were gone and I had no strength. I lay down under a small bush expecting to die. Then I fell asleep and dreamed, and I heard a voice say,
‘Eat! Drink!’
When I looked, bread was on the stones beside me and a stream was bubbling out of the ground. I embraced the blessing of insanity, ate and drank my fill, and slept again.

“Then, a man was there where the bread and water had been. He told me if I would eat the bread and drink the water he offered I would never again be hungry or thirsty. He was not handsome or tall like you, but somehow I knew he was what I had been looking for since the time I was a child, frightened by the images we were forced to worship. When I looked in his eyes, I felt clean, like all my pain had never happened.”

Rapha felt as if he were watching the sun appear and transform a dim world when he saw Sheatiel’s eyes glow with a childlike joy.

“When I woke,” she continued, “I was sad because that moment with him was all I desired.” She sighed and brushed away a lock of hair. “There are times I feel I would rather die than breathe again without Him.”

Her eyes searched his and Rapha was shocked to discover an understanding between them, she, harlot to evil, and he, misplaced son of heaven.

“Yes,” he answered the unspoken question. “It is like that.”

They wove in silence, allowing the wind, water and swaying grasses to fill the space between them. To Rapha, those sounds had suddenly become the sweetest music.

“I believe He was real.” Her words were so quiet Rapha almost missed them. “When I woke, my thirst was quenched and my stomach was filled so it must have been more than a dream. Every time I sleep I beg Him to come again. It was my hope when I lay dying, before you found me, that He would be there, but….” Sheatiel tied off the braid in her hands with a yank.

“But I came instead,” he finished her thought, then laughed when Sheatiel wrinkled her nose as if at an unpleasant smell. “So I am to be despised for saving your life?”

But she was in no mood for jokes. “I had no choice but to end the life of this one in my womb.”

“Because you fear the prince of evil who spawned it?”

“You have heard my thoughts,” she accused.

“I would not enter your mind uninvited but I see the truth. Evil followed you here because you carry its seed.”

Sheatiel took a deep breath. “I have told no one because I could trust no one.” Again she paused, lost in memories. “He was the shining ruler of our land. He was perfect, tall, and strong. Other men looked pitiful beside him. They say he descended from the sun and that the blood of the stars ran in his veins. I was bred to please him, chosen for my beauty and intelligence. It was the highest honor to be taken to the palace.”

She paused once again and shuddered. “But horrible things happen behind those walls. Soon I realized it was a prison. I saw the evil in his beautiful eyes and it repulsed me. But the more I hated him, the more he desired me. The more my tears flowed when I was forced to witness the horror of his sacrifices the more he chose me, out of his many women, to be by his side. He enjoyed my pain. Once he even confessed it made him feel alive again. He would beat me—and laugh.”

As she spoke, Rapha saw a picture developing of this prince, as if her words and even unspoken thoughts were coming to life in his mind. The tall, muscled body, the cunning and cruelty, even the occasional wit and charm could have been a perfect description of Lucifer in human form. In fact….

“What was his name?” Rapha asked.

“He had many. He preferred ‘My Lord’ but he was also called ‘Ra’ and ‘The Ba’al.’ Not exactly a name a mother would bestow.” When she spoke again she kept her eyes on the ground. “Only once did I feel I saw behind the mask he showed the world. He had… hurt me… worse than ever. He probably thought I was not conscious. I wished to be dead. But he spoke of his mother, how she would hate what he had become. Then he began to cry. I knew if I moved he would hurt me again so I lay still as he wept and said, ‘Oh my brother!’ over and over again.”

The image in Rapha’s mind was clear. There was no doubt.

“It is Cain. The child in you is his.”

“You know him?”

“Know him? I aided in his birth. I shared his home.”

“Then, you knew his mother and his father?”

“
You
know his mother.”

“Eve?”

“Yes.”

“And… his father?” Sheatiel shut her eyes as if bracing for a blow.

“It is a lengthy tale and a complicated one,” Rapha said. “But I will tell it if you like.”

When Sheatiel nodded, Rapha began. As the sun climbed high into the sky and then began to descend they remained, one unfolding the past while the other drank it in, the bitter as well as the sweet. When she smiled his heart soared. When she cried it eased the burden of his memories. It was only toward the end, when it was nearing the time she became part of the tale, that Sheatiel became silent, arms wrapped around her swollen belly.

When Rapha stopped speaking there was a moment’s silence, then Sheatiel was on her knees at his feet.

“You must help me! Give me the strength to end this! This ‘Cain’ will not rest until….” She wrapped the cord in his hands around her neck. “You are strong. It will be over quickly.”

Rapha knelt with her. Sheatiel’s eyes were shut tight but a tear escaped to trace a shining path down her cheek. He reached to brush it away and she flinched, her eyes flying open. “Please! Before I become weak.”

He removed the cord from her neck, “You are brave but the Holy One you met in the wilderness would ask you to be braver still. He preserved your life. Therefore I can do no less.”

“No. He gave me the sacrificial meal to prepare me for death.”

Rapha took her clenched fists in his hands. “That is not Adonai’s way. Evil demands death to prove devotion. Adonai asks more. He asks you to
live
your devotion. As for the babe in your womb, Adonai’s gift of life must never be taken lightly. He knew you before you were born. It is the same with your child.”

Touching her was connecting him to so many powerful emotions: fear and courage, love and hatred for the unborn, an artist’s sensitivity scarred by cruelty, self-hatred striving with God-breathed destiny, distrust of feelings, and now a deep trust for him.

Ah. Her affection for him had become deeper than her fear. In fact, when her hands touched his, she no longer wanted to die, she longed to live—she longed to… love.

He dropped her hands as if they burned him.

Rapha mumbled something more about Adonai and stood. The words made no sense. “Eve!” he called.

When he found the elder woman he told her of the child of her flesh in Sheatiel’s womb. He also instructed her to stay close to the cave at night. He would not be far away.

Why was he leaving? He needed to spy out the land. He would seek a mountain goat for milk. The ravens had news for him.

Lies.

Rapha ran.

He raced like a young Adam to the top of the mountain, running until sweat poured from his body and the heart of flesh pounded in his chest.

What good would it do to protect them from outside invasion if the greatest threat dwelt in him?

The cave at the top of the mountain was the setting of his greatest battle. He never slept, ate, or drank as the sun rose and set three times and his mind stormed with confusion. His flesh was betraying him; therefore he would slay it by neglect. He welcomed the suffering. It proved he could yet master it.

No celestials brought a comforting message. The Holy One who had absolved his guilt so long ago did not appear. Thus Rapha raged and cried out, even beating the rocky floor of the cave with his fists until it was stained with his blood.

Still nothing.

All was quiet except for a lark chirping on an overhanging branch, observing him with a bright eye.

Surely heaven had closed its ears to him, the fool who loved a human. For no other word could describe the feeling he had for Sheatiel. But this love was far different from what he felt for his angelic brothers or the fatherly affection he had for Adam and Eve. His passion for Sheatiel contained all those feelings and more. It was need and desire and tenderness for her presence as if she both completed and weakened him.

He had not been aware this emotion was possible since in his former life angels, at least those who remained faithful to Adonai, had no need of physical coupling. This issue had been Lucifer’s effective strategy in his war with heaven. He corrupted both earthly and celestial flesh by joining them—in direct rebellion of Adonai’s command. That perversion had been the demise of creation and Adonai’s heartbreak for time immemorial.

Rapha had no idea how long he wandered in his memories of grief, back to memories of Adonai’s perfection and peace on Earth; to the joyful manchild, Adam, with hopes as high as the heavens; beyond mortal understanding to a teasing, deadly ambitious angel, Lucifer, desiring to ascend to the very throne of Adonai; back even farther to the time before Earth’s remembrance, when celestial voices sang in perfect harmony, aiding The Most High in creating the wonders of the universe.

He was neither asleep nor awake, his mind and body losing their grasp on life, his soul hoping to leave behind the husk of flesh, when Adonai whispered to his heart,
“Rapha, arise. Your battle is not complete. Trust My everlasting love. Your weakness is strength in My hands.”

How Rapha longed to drown in that voice. But no, he was more aware, second by second, of his aching body and his swollen tongue until, with a cry of disappointment, he opened his eyes to bloodstained cave walls. But a cleft in the rock before him held clear water. He drank it. When he sat up, he discovered he was not alone.

Lucifer stood at the cave entrance.

“Let me look at you, old friend,”
he circled around Rapha tsk, tsking mournfully,
“ooh! The years have not been kind!”

He stopped before Rapha’s glazed eyes and grimaced as he sniffed and put a hand to his nose.
“My magnanimity amazes even me. I am prepared, for the sake of our long association, to forget our past differences and lift you out of this deplorable pit. I cannot bear that one of my noble brothers should be so,”
he waved a hand toward Rapha as if words failed him,
“disgraced.”

When Rapha remained silent, Lucifer squatted to eye level, an intoxicating perfume flowing from him.
“Say the word.
One word
and I have the power to restore you. There is no need to be debased any longer. What good can you possibly accomplish devoid of power, devoid of dignity?”
There was a sob in his voice.

But if there was one thing Rapha’s self-denial had accomplished it was a slaying of pride. The thought of beautiful raiment and power would be nothing but farce to one who felt less worthy of life than the bright-eyed bird who looked on from its customary branch.

“Go away,” Rapha rasped. “Those things mean nothing.”

“At least let me feed you!”
With a wave of his hand, Lucifer produced a banquet between them. Rapha was assaulted by the scent of roasted meat and fruits bursting with sweetness. His mouth watered but he turned away.

“Oh come!”
Lucifer exclaimed, grasping a chunk of meat and tearing into the moist, steaming flesh.

Rapha watched some of the pink juice run down Lucifer’s chin. “I thought you preferred it raw.”

Lucifer’s voice was so cold it chilled the air.
“You despise my kindness when I could so easily destroy you.”

“Please. Do.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, it would be kindness to end this pathetic existence. But then you would remain… un-instructed.”
He pronounced the word as if relishing its flavor as he continued to study Rapha, from his lank hair to the soles of his dirty feet.

“Something is different about you,”
Lucifer finally stated.

Rapha felt the penetration. His thoughts were being invaded. Sheatiel’s face pushed to the fore but he forced himself to focus on the memory of Kal, pierced and rotting in the midday sun.