THE FALL (Rapha Chronicles #1) (The Rapha Chronicles) (25 page)

“Come. We will discuss this when we are out of danger,” he put a hand on Cain’s shoulder and tried to move him from the cliff’s edge but the boy struggled and yanked away. The anger on Cain’s face, however, changed to fright when he slipped on the rocks and toppled backwards. In horror, Rapha and Abel watched Cain hit a small outcropping with a thud and then continue to roll and slide down the steep slope.

“Cain!” Abel shrieked and began to climb down, almost tumbling as well. With Rapha beside him, he raced to the spot where Cain, one arm and leg sprawled at a strange angle, lay among thorny bushes at the bottom of a ravine.

Blood pooled beneath the boy’s head but he was breathing. Rapha set about cleansing the head wound. The boy’s heartbeat was weak and his eyes, when he came to with a moan, were unfocused. With the sounds of pursuit closing in, Rapha instructed the boy to hide.

There were times the abilities of his human body that yet recalled angelic ways was a mystery to him. Usually Rapha felt limited, caged by his inability to fly or shift at will through time and space.

But this moment was an exception.

As Rapha cried out to Adonai and tore strips of cloth from his own garment to bind the boy’s wounds, he was aware of three separate realities playing a vital role in this moment. There was, of course, Cain’s blood flowing over his fingers but, as if a portion of his consciousness had flown back down the hill, he could see men studying the ground under the trees where he, Cain and Abel had crouched moments before. They shouted and others convened with them then looked up the hill. They were coming.

But, just as clearly, though he was at least seven days’ journey from home, Rapha could see Eve rising from her bed to pace the floor. She was outside the house crying, staring toward the mountains. Then she was striding away from the house, increasing to a run, with the dog, Eden, keeping pace with her.

Even as Rapha tightened a strip of cloth to slow Cain’s loss of blood, the two other scenes continued; the men, crouched over, following the trail below them; and Eve who was now stopped by Eden, doggy eyes sad but determined as she blocked Eve’s path. Into the scene ran Adam and Kal. “Something is wrong!” Eve’s lips said though Rapha could not hear the sound. Adam put an arm around Eve’s shoulder and tried to pull her toward the house but she would not budge. “They are in danger. I can feel it,” she wriggled herself from Adam’s grasp.

As Adam held out beseeching hands and Eve continued to shake her head, Kal stepped between them. Rapha did not need to hear Kal to know that his voice would be quiet and gentle as when he soothed a frightened animal. Soon it was obvious Kal had brought calm to the strained situation as the three knelt down in the grass.

Now a fourth realm opened before Rapha’s eyes. He was surrounded. The men from the valley were fanning up the mountain and closing in from all sides… but they could not see the shining ones, Rapha’s friends and brothers who glowed brighter by the second.

“Abba, Adonai!” Rapha whispered as his fingers probed the wound on the back of Cain’s head. The skull was cracked. “Abba, Adonai!” Rapha said again, beseeching Adonai’s intervention. Heat flowed through his fingers and heaven’s language poured from his lips.

He heard a voice raised in triumph. The men had discovered Abel.

But heaven’s speech continued to flow as Rapha’s hands pressed against Cain’s head and Adonai’s power coursed through him. There were whispers on the wind, the familiar voices of Adam, Eve, and Kal mingled with heaven’s battle cry. A warm breath rushed past his cheek, then raced with tumbling leaves up into the sky and back to the ground to surge away in all directions, building to a screeching gale that drove branches and rocks before it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Discord

Rapha inhaled heaven’s scent. It revived him, renewing his hope and bringing peace.

A moment later, frightened cries greeted his ears as the heavenly guard drove the pursuers back down the mountain. He breathed his thanks even as his hands continued their ministrations to Cain’s torn body. If only he had access to a certain plant that had flourished in Eden….

The sweet fragrance flowed around him once again and his eyes were drawn to a spot of bright light a few paces away. Once again he breathed his gratitude just as Abel reappeared.

“Rapha! It was amazing! The wind blew and there were noises and voices in it and the dogs ran away and the men screamed and—”

“I saw it, too,” Rapha said as he pointed toward the light. “Bring me some of that plant. Quickly.”

Abel grew quiet at the sight of his brother’s broken frame and hurried to obey. Rapha rinsed Cain’s wounds with the fermented juice he kept in the small flask attached to his waist, then applied the new plant’s sticky, cleansing sap, pressing torn flesh together as if a layer of protective skin had been applied. When Rapha reset the bones in Cain’s arm and leg, the boy came to painful awareness, but long draughts from Rapha’s flask numbed his pain.

It was the head wound that worried Rapha most. Once again he sought heaven’s assistance and focused on the cleansed area that continued to swell until, finally, a new stream of fluid flowed from the wound and the pressure eased. Although this was the least obvious of the day’s miracles, he sensed the direct presence of Adonai, knitting what Rapha could not see.

Rapha felt a bit of the tension relax in his shoulders. He took a deep breath and sat back on his heels. “Thank You, Adonai.”

“He’ll be okay?” Abel whispered.

“He will mend but we must hurry. We have to carry him.”

By the time they were pulling Rapha’s cloak tight over the frame of branches they would use to move Cain, the sun was high in the sky. Then, as they groaned and lifted Cain’s weight up to their shoulders to struggle through a steep cleft, a horn’s blast echoed from the cliff walls around them, followed by the excited baying of dogs.

“What will we do?” Abel asked, voice cracking, muscles straining and eyes wide with fright. “They are all around.”

“Pray and keep going,” Rapha stated. “The rocks are deceiving your ears. They are not as close as it seems and there are none directly ahead.”

“But they can move much faster. What will we do if they catch us?”

“Have you forgotten so quickly how Adonai drove them away? Pray and keep going,” Rapha said again as he was forced to use one hand to climb and the other to steady the heavy frame.

But as the sun inched toward the west, their path remained rocky and steep while the sounds of pursuit grew nearer.

“What did you do before to make the wind rush at them?” Abel asked as they paused at the top of an especially grueling incline. “Perhaps you should do it again.”

“I prayed,” Rapha adjusted his grip on Cain’s bed, “Adonai and the celestial host moved the wind.” A shout of triumph sounded from below. “We have been seen,” Rapha stated.

They began moving uphill but their path led over open terrain with another steep, rocky hill at the far end. “Perhaps we can slow them down,” Rapha said when he spied a circling hawk far above. With a thought, Rapha summoned the bird.

“You just called him, didn’t you,” Abel stated.

“I pictured him descending to us.”

Abel squinted up at the hawk that began spiraling toward them. Soon it landed a few feet away, one bright eye fixed on Rapha.

“He is impatient and wants to get back to his hunt, right?” Abel whispered.

“Yes,” said Rapha, “now I am asking for his aid.”

Abel stared hard at the hawk that gave one “Skree!” and flapped into the air.

“He agreed, didn’t he,” Abel stared, awestruck, after the bird. “That was amazing. It was more feeling than words, but I got it!”

Rapha took a tighter grip on Cain’s bed, “Be amazed later. We must hurry or the diversion will be in vain.”

As they raced over the level stretch of ground the hawk’s cries continued and were joined by the squawks, chirps and caws of other birds. By the time they reached the cliff, the noise was almost deafening as a feathered cloud amassed above them, growing steadily as birds continued to materialize from the surrounding trees and rocky crags.

But their pursuers were closing in. As Rapha and Abel struggled to heave the unconscious Cain up the cliff that barred their way, the dogs reached the base and the golden-haired leader was standing at the edge of the trees, a rallying cry on his lips.

Many things happened at once. Several dogs yapped and struggled to climb, their powerful jaws snapping at Rapha’s feet. Cain groaned and Rapha discovered the boy’s eyes were open—just as Ish-el burst from the trees, screaming commands and racing ahead of his men onto the grassy expanse. But Ish-el’s voice, in turn deep and resonant, then cracking with immaturity, was swallowed up in screeches as the cloud of birds lowered and became a barricade of flapping, clawing cacophony. Dogs yelped, men screamed, and the birds, a darting, undulating mass, fed the frenzy.

But Ish-el raised a hand toward the diving flock and, as if a mighty wind blew them off-course, the birds in that direction were scattered.

Cain and Abel gasped. “Did you see that?” they asked in unison.

“Do not stare! Climb!” Rapha commanded the awestruck Abel. “They will continue to dive until we are away.”

“Make the birds stop. The men are stabbing them!”

“Abel, we have to get Cain to safety.”

“But the birds are not hurting them.”

“Which is what I instructed,” Rapha heaved himself up to another foothold.

“It’s not right,” Cain pleaded weakly.

“Rest, Cain,” Rapha said, “there is a place close by. I will tend you there.”

But Cain’s eyes were riveted to the drama below. “No!” he strained against the straps holding him to the bed as a harsh “Skree!” filled the air. “You!” Cain yelled, “Get him!”

Rapha turned, following Cain’s gaze, and the situation was all too clear. Ish-el had skewered a hawk and, with a shout of triumph, was swinging the still-shrieking bird in the air like a banner, unaware that a monstrous eagle, talons extended, bore down toward his golden head.

In an instant the sharp claws were imbedded in Ish-el’s bare shoulders and blood poured down his back as the bird pecked and dug. Ish-el flailed his arms and screamed.

“Cain! Tell him to stop!” Abel begged, just as the eagle’s beak aimed for Ish-el’s eyes.

“No! Peace!”
Rapha’s shout reverberated around them, echoing and multiplying from rocks, trees, and hills, building until the command became the voice of an army of thousands raised in one accord.

All fell silent.

Men and birds gazed around them in stunned confusion.

It was Ish-el who broke the spell. His gaze locked on Rapha and, with muscles straining and veins bulging as if the very air resisted him, he lifted his spear and aimed it toward the eagle that had broken off its attack at Rapha’s command.

But the eagle snapped to sudden attention and dodged the spear, then extended its talons toward Ish-el’s eyes.

As Ish-el’s panicked cries filled the air, men and birds glimpsed the horror of his bloodied face and resumed their attack, more fierce and deadly than before. Soon the ground was littered with the feathered, maimed bodies of man and beast.

With a mighty effort, Rapha shoved Abel and the cumbersome bed up the remaining portion of the cliff, then commanded the stunned Abel across several hundred paces of rocky terrain and into a maze of caverns.

As soon as they lowered Cain’s bed in a narrow alcove with faint light filtering down from an opening in the rock above, Abel turned his face to the wall and his shoulders shook with sobs.

Cain’s gaze was still unfocused. “Stop it, Abel,” he gasped as he tried to turn his eyes toward his brother. “They would have killed us. This way, it’s… over.”

“No.” Rapha paced back and forth, the carnage of the men and birds replaying over and over in his mind. “No. It has begun… once again. Lucifer’s ways are loosed on another age. By using your ability to command the bird to attack your enemies, you continue a horrible inheritance of man slaying man, of war between man and beast, of might triumphing over weakness, of flesh ripping and tearing flesh in self-preservation and fear.” Rapha’s voice caught on a sob as he relived the endless years of striving, celestial brothers at war, the waste of ruined creation, of distrust and fear being their daily food.

“But he deserved what he got,” Cain said. “He was about to kill the bird. He would have killed us.”

“It would have been better if he had!” Rapha turned to glare at Cain. “We do not defeat evil by becoming even more evil! Have you learned nothing from your father, Adam? He is a man of peace. He loves and serves you and your mother with selflessness. He does not demand a crown or a kingdom. He only desires what is best for you, just like Adonai.
That
is your inheritance.
That
is the hope you should be passing on to future generations, not the continuation of war and the shedding of blood!”

“But it wasn’t right,” Cain tried to move but a wide strap secured his head. “You told the birds not to harm them?” He tried to reach toward his head with his good hand but another strap around his chest prevented it. “They needed to protect themselves.”

Rapha reached to untie Cain’s cords, “How many birds were saved by fighting?”

Cain was silent.

“None,” Abel’s ragged whisper, spoken to the wall, reverberated around them. “None were flying. All were wounded… or dead.”

“And the men,” Rapha asked, “were any saved by commanding the birds to attack?”

“Why should I worry about those who want to kill us?”

“Because,” Rapha stopped working at the knot securing Cain’s arms, “they are part of Adonai’s creation and He loves them.”

Cain sneered, “So we should
love
them so much we allow them to kill us?”

“If that is Adonai’s desire, yes.”

The conversation ceased a moment while Rapha checked Cain’s splints and bandages.

“Why is Adonai so weak?” Cain accused through gritted teeth as Rapha dressed his abrasions again.

“Are you weak because you feel pain?” Rapha asked.

“No. I am weak only if I cannot endure it,” Cain answered.

“Then Adonai is strongest of all because He endures the most. Only in Him can we be strong enough to love even those who hate us.”

“Then the ones who hate would win,” Cain observed, “because they would kill those who obey Adonai.”

“No. God’s creation is built upon laws. When you sow seeds, you expect to see more of what was planted, right? Therefore, if you sow violence, you will reap it. And if you sow peace….”

Cain’s jaw jutted with stubbornness and he looked away.

“You reap peace,” Abel’s quiet voice supplied.

In the coming days, their mood was somber as they kept a wary watch and waited for Cain to heal sufficiently to walk. Gone was the easy camaraderie and sense of adventure. Cain was sullen as if he blamed Rapha for his wounds. Abel was quiet, obviously lost in thought. Rapha was grateful to begin the long trip home. But, though he was eager to deliver the boys back to Adam and Eve with every limb accounted for, it seemed their hearts remained behind on a lonely mountain pass.

When Rapha and the boys were still far from the house, Adam and Eve came running to greet them. “I thought we had lost you,” Eve sobbed as she clutched her sons.

Adam too was overcome with emotion, “Welcome home,” he said as he grasped them in a powerful embrace.

Even as Abel responded with tenderness, Cain was stiff and unsmiling.

Rapha opens his eyes to the ruin Earth has become. Over and over in his thousands of years in this tired body he has had to witness hopeful beginnings, fresh young faces so full of promise, so committed to Adonai, so fervent in their commitment, yet, at their core, flawed. Over and over he abandoned hope, even abandoned faith in his Maker, as his heart broke with each betrayal of Adonai’s ways.

The faces parade before him: Esau, Saul, David, Solomon, Samson, Absalom, Judas; so many hopes crushed, so many mistakes, so much pain.

But Abel… Rapha had such hopes for the boy. Abel was gaining understanding. He would have raised his children to know Adonai’s heart. But Rapha just didn’t see it coming.

Or was it that he did not want to see?

His mind races back to the dawn of Cain and Abel’s thirteenth year. Like every other day, Rapha began by communing with Adonai, by gathering news of their borders from the birds and roaming beasts and speaking the ancient words of protection over their domain.

Had he become complacent? Had he watched so carefully for invasion from outside that he had ignored the growing threat under his nose?

Alas, on that day, the scales were ripped from his eyes.

Three full celestial cycles and several moons had passed since that harrowing flight through the mountains and slow journey home. Life had resumed its ebb and flow; sowing and reaping, tending and building; the seasons marked by the regular pilgrimage up the mountain for the sacrifice of blood that secured their covenant with Adonai.