THE FALL (Rapha Chronicles #1) (The Rapha Chronicles) (34 page)

Chapter Thirty

Finding Family

Four years later…

“How can they bear to live like that?” Auda whispered as she stared toward a small group of earthen shelters nestled at one end of a wide valley.

As fragrant morning woke and spread its light, Rapha and Auda observed the scene displayed before them. For years Rapha had scoured the land for just such a settlement.

“Their way of life is comfortable,” Rapha said, “food growing in the field, animals giving milk and even their meat when necessary, and a snug home to keep out the cold wind.”

“But look at that woman,” Auda indicated the eldest female bent under the weight of heavy water skins balanced on a long pole across her shoulders. “Why do they not just go to the water instead of dragging it back? And the way they push everything away to plant row after row of what they choose? Much of what they destroy would feed them.”

“That is what they know,” Rapha answered, suppressing a sigh of frustration. “I am sure they would find our way of life difficult to understand as well.”

“But how can they spend day after day dwelling within a small, brown cave—hardly large enough for rabbits—while so much remains undiscovered?” Auda’s nose wrinkled, “They are to be pitied.”

This was not going the way Rapha had planned. Finally he had discovered a thriving group of humans dwelling in a sheltered valley far from slaughter and oppression… a difficult scenario to achieve in troubled times when most had given up resisting the stronger species, opting rather to appease their conquerors. These humans, therefore, must be of a hardy, independent spirit. Plus, the stone structure erected on the mountain overlooking the valley had the appearance of an altar. According to Rapha’s winged friends, this family offered sacrifices to the One True God. Rapha longed to hear how they had come to that knowledge.

And there was one other crucial element.

At the sound of laughter, Auda paused in her critique and looked toward a group of three males emerging from the trees. One was short and moved with the eager, energetic motions of childhood as the taller men ambled beside him, both bearing half a large stag on their backs. The leader of the party sported a full, dark beard and a shaggy thatch of wiry hair while the other….

Ah! She had noticed. The third was as tall as the bearded one but his cheek was smooth and his physique, while muscular, had the coltish, narrow build of one suspended in that fleeting moment between boy and man.

Rapha glanced at Auda from the corner of his eye, noting with satisfaction that her mouth was agape and her thick-lashed eyes were narrowed as she studied the lad. But when she turned a suspicious gaze Rapha’s way, he feigned intense interest in the stag. “Eight prongs! That was no easy kill. They are skilled hunters.”

“They are disgusting! They are like boar who have groveled in filth!”

Even without the influence of a mother in her life, Auda had perfected that look of feminine disdain. In the four years since Rafe had left them she had developed into a formidable, beautiful young woman who moved with the feline grace and watchfulness of the mountain cats she admired, and had, on rare occasions, even coaxed into wary affection—when they were well-fed and not protecting their young. But, like her feline companions, she had an especially heightened sense of cleanliness, though she had an affinity for the water they could not abide. During the heat of the day she was often occupied with grooming, her flaxen curls combed to smoothness and her skin kept supple by Rapha’s shared knowledge of nature’s apothecary.

“This is foolishness to skulk in the shadows. Let us greet them.” Rapha rose.

“No!” Auda’s hand gripped the sleeve of his leather cloak.

“What do you fear?”

“I do not fear!” Her hands smoothed the thick hair secured at the nape of her neck with a narrow strip of leather, “I just have no desire to….”

“Come. They will think us unfriendly if their beast discovers us before we announce ourselves.”

At that moment a large dog with thick gray and black fur and the loping gait of a wolf emerged from the trees behind the men and paused, his nose detecting a new scent in the morning breeze.

“They are downwind. You did this on purpose,” Auda hissed.

But Rapha was already on his feet, his hand raised and a shout of greeting on his lips. Soon there was no recourse but to move forward and meet the strangers.

That day was thereafter filed among Rapha’s memories as “notably unbearable.” When introductions were made, Auda would not allow the people to grasp her forearm, their method of greeting, choosing instead to clasp her hands behind her back and ignore their outstretched hands. This strategy backfired, however, when the father mumbled his approval to Rapha for raising his daughter, “with the meekness becoming a young woman.”

Immediately, Auda’s hand had shot out to grasp the forearm of each as she forcefully introduced herself, this being the first of many ways she sought to offend their hosts. When the women, a mother and three daughters, came to greet her and subsequently referred to Rapha as her father, Auda made it clear this was not the case but made no effort to clarify the matter. Thus Rapha became the target of dark looks and when the wife found the proper opportunity to whisper in her husband’s ear, the situation became dangerous.

“Why are you here?” the man’s long knife was in his hand, and the older son, after shooing the women into the shelter, stood behind Rapha, his knife’s blade aimed at Rapha’s back.

“This is a lonely land. We seek the society and mutual protection of friendship.”

But the man was unconvinced. Blood might have been spilled if Rapha had not said with a steady voice, “You are wise to be cautious, since so few bow the knee to the One True God.”

The man’s jaw dropped in astonishment, “Few indeed! We know of only one!”

After a few piercing questions, he embraced Rapha as a newfound brother.

“I am Ochim and this is my son, Elden. You are very welcome here.”

Soon the entire family gathered to marvel at the story of Auda’s rescue while she sat just outside the shelter, refusing to enter. But when Rapha explained, “Poor child. Enclosed spaces remind her of captivity,” the group, clucking and murmuring their sympathy, rearranged the party in the open air.

Auda, looking as if she sat on a hill of ants, was forced either to be civil or to endure their pity when Rapha credited her lack of social skills to “an understandable distrust of strangers.”

In truth, if Rapha had not been so disappointed his plan was failing, he would have greatly enjoyed goading his stubborn daughter. When she refused their food, pulled away from the youngest child who fingered her hair with shining eyes, or refused to be seated next to Elden (who could not hide his admiration) Rapha would flash a look of pity and pat her hand with humiliating condescension.

But later in the evening, Ochim told stories of the homeland they left behind. The oldest daughter sang a song of their peoples’ defeat by a violent race, and the mother stepped forward in the firelight to dance, a small drum under her arm keeping rhythm as they paid tribute to the slain. The woman’s graceful movements combined like magic with the young girl’s pure voice forming the perfect key to unlock Auda’s heart.

When the dance ended, Rapha asked, “How did you learn to worship the God above all gods?”

The man’s face was thoughtful, “It was several years ago, another time such as this when a stranger came to our door. Oh! He was a sight! He was dressed in ragged animal skins, hair and beard covering most of his face. He was large so we assumed he was one of
them
and commanded the dog to attack—but when he got close, the beast sniffed the man’s hand and licked him. I can usually trust that animal’s instincts so I asked the man what he wanted. ‘Just some food and company,’ he said. ‘In return I will tell stories.’ And that is what he did. He spoke of a beautiful garden where the God over all gods walked and talked with him, where there was no war and even the animals dwelt in peace.
‘The lion would lie down with the lamb,’
he said.

“The more he talked, the more I wanted to believe his story was real. But then,” Ochim stared in the fire, “the story became sad. The man and his mate in the garden listened to a serpent who tricked them into betraying the God of all gods, and they had to leave that place. The man told us the only way they were protected from the evil one outside the garden was to sacrifice. ‘The blood of the animals covers us until the day the One True God restores creation through the,’ what was that word?” the man turned to his wife.

“Messiah,” she supplied.

The man looked up at Rapha, his eyes reflecting the flames of their fire, “Ever since, we have sacrificed several times a year to the One True God.”

The group was silent a moment while the fire crackled.

Finally Rapha asked, “Who was this man? What did he call himself?”

“He said he had no name,” Ochim replied, “that he was simply a wanderer with a story to tell.”

When the moon was high, Rapha and Auda took their leave. It was a silent walk, a surprise to Rapha who had expected to endure her venom at the first opportunity.

“Do you want to be rid of me?” she asked as they reached their encampment nestled beneath close-knit pines that sighed in the wind.

“Yes, if that will bring your happiness.”

“I miss Rafe.”

It was the first time she had mentioned his name in three years. Surely this was a good sign. “He would want you to be happy,” Rapha said, “to have children, to dwell surrounded by love.”

Auda was silent a moment, her eyes scanning the stars. “Is this Adonai’s plan?” She turned that piercing gaze toward him.

“I admit, I do not know for sure, but it is good for you to spend time with… those like you.”

“I don’t like them,” Auda stated, “and I am
not
like them. But if it makes you happy I will try to be… nice.”

Her face bore such snobbish revulsion Rapha had to laugh. “Do you consider them beneath you, my queen?”

“No!” she retorted, then hesitated. “Well, they
are
rather dirty and they are messy when they eat….”

“And have you been raised in marble halls?”

A faint smile lit her features, “No. Usually we had no walls to keep out the night wind and no roof to hide the stars.”

Rapha sensed her brokenness as she walked away into the shadows of the trees, but he allowed her solitude. This was a rite of passage she must make on her own.

He also noticed the large raven that rose on whispering wings, the same that had watched them the entire day.

One thing he knew for sure. That night, Auda’s would not be the only grieving heart.

It should have been a happy time for Auda, a time for discovering young love, for dreaming of the future, for reveling in the fact that a family was eager to open its arms and make her a part of them.

Rapha had to admit she tried. She made a valiant effort to smile at the young man, Elden, to enjoy the chatty intimacy of female friendships she had never known before. But when she would walk away looking as if a heavy burden was pulling her into the earth, Rapha would encourage her eager suitor, Elden, to honor her privacy. “She has lived free as a bird on the wind. Give her time.”

But as her smiles grew more rare and her appetite all but vanished, Rapha had misgivings. Was the most logical path truly the one to make her happy? Was this Adonai’s will or was Rapha merely encouraging what was safe?

The morning Rapha woke and Auda was gone from her bed, he feared she had fled rather than face further pressure to play the role of a love-struck young woman. His worry was short-lived, however, for soon she walked into camp, face streaked with dirt, eyes swollen and red, but lit with a fierce determination.

“I had a dream,” she announced. “A shining man told me to find Rafe. He said you could help me.”

Before Rapha could answer she continued, “He also said I would be the mother of a mighty people, redeemed and dedicated to Adonai.”

“What was his name?”

She wrinkled her brow at the question. “What?”

“The man in your dream. Did he tell you?”

“He called himself ‘Gabriel.’”

“Gabriel!” Rapha’s heart raced as memories of his former life—eons of battles, joys, and sorrows—flooded his mind.

“Why is it important to know his name?” Auda asked.

Rapha wrestled his mind back to the present, “Beauty and might are not gifted only to those whose motives are pure,” Rapha said, “but be assured, Gabriel is a faithful servant of The Most High.”

Auda burst into tears, sobbing with an intensity of emotion she had never expressed, not even as a small child who missed her mother. When the flood of hurts dammed for a lifetime had soaked Rapha’s tunic, she wiped her face and said, “I was so afraid. Afraid to believe him, afraid to hope, afraid of losing hope again, afraid you would say it was my own wishes taking form as I slept, just the dream of a foolish girl who wants what she cannot have.”

“As a rule,” Rapha felt obliged to warn as he wiped her face with his sleeve, “heavenly messengers are sent when the road ahead is especially difficult.”