THE FALL (Rapha Chronicles #1) (The Rapha Chronicles) (32 page)

But he could not resist for long. Soon he heard Lucifer’s satisfied chuckle as the memory of Sheatiel, eyes shut in peaceful repose, a curl of dark hair draping across full lips, was wrested from his mind.

“Ah! You have excellent taste, old friend.”
Lucifer’s hand was beneath Rapha’s chin.
“Believe me. Cain has relished her… fruits. He is most eager to retrieve this bird who has flown.”

Lucifer sat back and sighed.
“Ah, Rapha. My war is not with you. For the sake of our old friendship, I will give you the best of advice. You love this woman. It is all too simple. Join with her, take her as your wife, live a life of peace far from all this strife of war.”

Lucifer leaned in and whispered, his words sweet as honey in Rapha’s ears.
“What did it do for the humans to mix with our flesh? It brought death.
Death
, Rapha! Imagine, you grow old, you die, you are
freed
! It is your way out. Become one with her. Reach out and take the joy before you.”

The images in Rapha’s mind made him weak with longing.

“And what of my offspring?” Rapha whispered. “They would be part of your corruption, the way you have destroyed from the beginning. Adonai created perfection and harmony but you continue to corrupt. Why, after all this time, do you think I would be grafted into that vine? The war would continue in their flesh; earthly and celestial, incompatible from the beginning, burdening Adonai’s heart, hastening earth’s destruction yet again. They would further the tyranny, envy and strife you have unleashed.”

Again Lucifer sighed.
“You take yourself too seriously, Rapha. You always have. The seed is sown. It
will
grow and spread. It cannot be stopped. The actions of one outcast from the heavens will be of no consequence. Besides, you have already been altered. What if you are compatible now?”

Rapha’s heart beat faster at those words.

“Who knows but that Adonai has opened this avenue to happiness—if you will reach out and take it.”

A wild hope flared in Rapha’s heart.

“Have you even asked? You’ve always had a special connection to the Most High. No reason for fear, eh?”

At that moment the raven landed at the mouth of Rapha’s cave. He flapped his wings and backed away when he saw Lucifer.

“Ah! News from below,”
the fallen angel’s eyes glittered and a malicious smile spread on his face.

The bird fixed his gaze on Rapha. The message encoded there caused Rapha to jump to his feet.

“Alas! Adonai gives,”
Lucifer chuckled, as Rapha raced from the cave,
“and he takes away!”

“SHEATIEL!”

This time Rapha ran toward her. Lucifer’s delighted laughter echoed around him. It didn’t matter. Reason called. Rapha shoved it aside. Adonai’s one rule since the beginning of all things, to maintain purity—separate and distinct worlds between men and celestials—was tossed to the wind.

He loved. He felt passion beyond himself, beyond law. He would be by her side. He would fight. If he was destroyed, all the better.

As he raced down the mountain, oblivious to rocks against his bare feet, heart torn by this new madness, he sensed a surprising companion.

Adonai was in the madness. His presence was unmistakable.

“Now you begin to understand,”
Adonai whispered to Rapha’s heart.
“My love is beyond law, beyond barriers. What I have declared is established. What I have made pure is redeemed.”

It was a strange moment for clarity. What he felt toward Sheatiel was just a taste of the passion Adonai felt toward all creation. That passion consumed and defined and—Rapha gasped—
forged a way through impossibilities
.

Was Adonai endorsing his love for this woman? Would He somehow bring joy from what was forbidden?

For the second time in his existence, Rapha felt reformed. For the first time… ever… he felt the true human joy of discovery heightened by a sense of limitation, by a sense of—mortality.

Then he heard her cry. He raced toward the sound expecting at any moment to meet Lucifer’s murderous hordes—but no enemy confronted him.

Her voice came again on the wind, a terrified shriek. Surely only torture would cause such pain.

Nothing would stop him. If Adonai was with him what could stand against him?

So he stumbled upon his greatest fear—Eve’s tragic eyes, Shealtiel’s tortured cries—with the peace of heaven overflowing his being. The babe was emerging but it was destroying Sheatiel like an abandoned chrysalis. So Rapha set to work doing what he did best, to bring comfort and mend bodies. How he prayed as her blood flowed over his hands. How forcefully he spoke heavenly commands to ministering angels. How he worshiped Adonai and sang praises to the creator of all things even as he discovered her ruptured womb and the infant foot that protruded, blue in color.

He took the babe quickly, that abnormally large child who was, nevertheless, not ready to thrive outside the womb. And as his hands continued to press down, trying to stop the relentless draining of Sheatiel’s life, his tears blended with her blood.

He was failing.

There was no time to wonder why. There was no opportunity to scream at the heavens demanding intervention. He had only moments to love.

Sheatiel grasped his bloodied hand and placed it beneath her chin. For one eternal moment her eyes held his. What he saw there stilled his soul as she smiled with the radiant glow of perfect peace.

Finally she spoke. “Please, if you love me, do not try to keep me here.”

Rapha’s eyes widened in surprise.

“He told me of your love,” she said. “I would not have believed the words from anyone else.” Sheatiel smiled and squeezed Rapha’s hand. “He was with me through the night, through the pain. He promised you would join me one day—when your task is finished.”

Circumstances were unchanged but everything was transformed.

“He says the child is a gift to you. Through you this one, though intended for evil, will be grafted into holiness.” She choked with emotion and her tears flowed. “My life is redeemed,” she whispered and kissed the tips of Rapha’s fingers. “Eve?”

Eve stepped forward, the child in her arms, and Sheatiel said, “My son will be a comfort to you, filling your empty arms. I leave him in your keeping.” With that she reached for the baby with feeble arms and Eve laid it on her chest where the child turned its face, eager to suckle. Though quickly fading, Sheatiel said, “Take my strength, dear one. I no longer need it.”

The baby swallowed, its sounds of life filling the silence with hope as its eyes fixed on hers.

“Please name him Rapha,” Sheatiel whispered, “Teach him to be just like you.”

“Today I am his father,” Rapha sensed the affirmation of heaven in those words even as he felt himself attaching to her soul, sucking hungrily at its strength, needing that sustenance for survival as surely as the babe in her arms.

He placed a kiss on Sheatiel’s forehead and rested his head on her shoulder, breathing in the perfume of her skin and the pulsing life rising from the newborn’s still-wet head. He felt his heart tear loose as a lifetime of emotion broke over him.

Like rain on a desert, his tears opened her mind and invited him into that secret place, laying her naked soul before him without reserve, exposing every shame and wound without fear. He gasped at the depth of its treasures and pains, marveling at the palaces of riches and whole worlds of virgin lands, an entire universe of Adonai’s likeness embossed on each cell of her essence. And there, in a childlike nook of her heart, he discovered a need, an unspoken but desperate yearning. Rapha lifted his head to look in her eyes.

“I claim you as my life mate, my wife,” he whispered, and then paused to drink in her sigh of pleasure. “My heart and body are yours forever. We are one.”

“We are one,” she echoed and smiled.

Rapha prayed, speaking Adonai’s will in heavenly words until he could finally accept it.

A look of rapture dawned on Sheatiel’s face and she gasped with childish delight, “I have a family, a husband, a sister, a child. I am loved. It is all I ever wanted.” Then she laughed and the air sparkled with the beauty of her soul taking flight, and even the baby stopped suckling to gaze at her.

It was a moment of dazzling beauty Rapha tucked away in his soul. He felt Adonai’s kiss bestowed with the gift of her joy.

Sheatiel died as the babe suckled the last drops of life from her breast, his large, innocent eyes closing in contented slumber, one small fist tucked beneath his chin, mirroring his mother who still clutched Rapha’s blood-crusted hand.

Then, one more gift dripped from Adonai’s throne. A vision of what was, that very moment, taking place.

He saw Sheatiel, running with a shriek of delight to the Holy One who swung her into the air and spun until they both fell into a field of wildflowers, dizzy with joy, laughing in their delirium. Finally, with bits of vibrant petals in her hair, she looked toward Rapha. “You’re here!” and she ran to him, leaping into his arms and kissing him on the lips with an abandon reserved for children unacquainted with pain.

But Rapha was not there to stay. He knew if he remained longer he would be unable to return to his new son. Indeed the thought of leaving that place was already destroying him.

“I love you, Sheatiel,” he cupped a hand to her perfect cheek and kissed her lips, then walked with her toward the Holy One where he placed her hand in His.

Immediately he was dropped back into the dim world of blood and death where her cold hand yet clutched his and the babe slept at her breast, its steady breathing accompanied by the sound of Eve’s quiet weeping.

There Rapha remained, drinking deep of the peace and pain.

Adonai inhabited both.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rafe

It was a strange new frontier for Rapha. As soon as he thought he understood the parenting process, the rules would change. The baby would be wakeful all night or he would cry for no obvious reason or he would have a day when he only desired Eve followed by a time of screaming unless attached to Rapha’s broad back. He was a needy child, much more challenging than Abel and Cain had been, even considering the fact that since they were twins, the workload had been double.

Thankfully, the baby’s challenges were not physical. The mothering instinct had brought the miracle of Eve’s milk so he was well fed from the start. But Rapha knew exactly how the baby felt. He too missed Sheatiel. There were days he wished he could join the child in wailing at the top of his lungs but there was no time for this indulgence. Mere survival was too demanding. Their patchwork family lived a nomadic life, following the flocks and milder weather and Rapha’s limitless knowledge enabled them to thrive even though they longed for the stability of their former life. But they agreed the child’s heritage must be hidden. Thus their home was a portable shelter of animal skins, and the sum of their wealth was the few items they could carry on their backs. Luckily, Rapha could carry as much as the strongest beast of burden, so they knew no lack. Occasionally they could milk a wild goat or discover eggs, but the addition of stock animals for a constant supply was impossible. Even with the ability to move at a moment’s notice, danger loomed.

When the baby was only three weeks old that fact was made all too clear. After a restless night of enduring the child’s crying (none of Rapha’s salves or prayers soothed him) he took the child outside their shelter where fresh air, night noises and the sight of bright stars finally lulled the babe to sleep. There, wrapped in his warm cloak and listening to the lullaby of the baby’s peaceful breathing, Rapha too slumbered. The sun was already in its second hour when he was shocked to wakefulness by the plodding lope of an approaching camel.

Berating himself for his lapse in judgment, Rapha remained seated as the rider approached. Every detail of the man’s clothing and appearance was cataloged as Rapha assessed this possible threat, from the fine weave of the man’s brilliantly dyed cloak to the well-fed state of his camel. The stranger was unaccompanied and his emotions exuded intense agitation and fear, not a recipe for disaster, even so…. “Eve!”

She came, bleary-eyed and startled, to retrieve the still-slumbering baby and then reentered the shelter just as the man brought his camel to a halt. Though his eyes glanced her way, the man’s attention centered on Rapha.

“Greetings!” Rapha’s smile did nothing to decrease the stranger’s unease.

“Good morrow!” The man answered without dismounting. “My son said he heard a baby’s cry during the night as he kept the flocks and he reported where you lodged. I hope you are refreshed,” the words were cordial but the true reason for the man’s visit was screaming in Rapha’s mind.

The man got right to the point. “Fierce men are approaching. My sons who roam our borders saw them.” He wiped a trembling hand across his brow. “I come to extend protection.”

“What are the enemy’s numbers?” Rapha asked.

“More than one hundred, well-armed.” The man hesitated. “It is reported some stand as tall as trees.”

“What are your defenses?”

“High earthen walls and the strength of my sons.”

Rapha continued questioning, though already convinced the man’s cause was hopeless.

“You must flee to the hills. Your family will not survive if you remain.”

The man’s expression became shrewd. “You have enjoyed the hospitality of this land. You are obligated to assist against our enemies.”

“My assistance is this advice. Flee while you can.”

“Why do they come to my lands? Are you what they seek?” Rapha’s hesitation confirmed the man’s suspicions. “Either assist us or I will lead them to you.” The dark eyes were hard as flint. “I know what you are. The only reason a descendant of the gods would travel thus, with only one wife and no possessions, is because you have stolen something of great value.”

Rapha stood and the man’s eyes widened as he beheld Rapha’s height and girth. The man was smart and would not hesitate to be cruel if it would ensure the safety of his family and possessions, especially the latter. “I have a daughter, lovely and tender in years. She is yours, along with seven camels, if you assist us.” When Rapha seemed to be considering the offer the man continued, “or my youngest son, if you prefer,” the shrewd eyes glinted as he assessed Rapha’s reaction.

Rapha shrugged and took a step forward but his eyes were fixed on the camel. He reached for the bridle and lifted the animal’s head as if for inspection.

“Yes!” The man adjusted his proposition, “You drive a hard bargain. The boy, the girl
and
the camels—” But his words were cut short as the animal turned tail and streaked away as fast as his long, loping legs would carry him while the man flung himself forward and held on for dear life.

Rapha felt remorse for the terror he had injected into the beast’s mind. He knew the camel would not pause until he collapsed, trembling, at his customary shelter, but it could not be helped.

He turned to find Eve already prepared, the sleeping baby wrapped securely to her chest, her few possessions on her back. Moments later they were on the move and nightfall found them miles away in a mountain cave.

The next day dark smoke rose from the valley floor and the scent of death was carried on the wind.

Horror ran rampant in the land. Daily the ravens brought news of death and destruction. Even Rapha found the reports unbelievable—of men as tall as trees who possessed an insatiable appetite for conquest. But when their party of three came upon the remains of these conquests the truth was confirmed. Protective ramparts were ripped from their foundations, men were impaled and burned and any remainders of livestock were simply skin and bones, as if the marauders had devoured them alive. There were some traces of women and children among the ruins, usually victims of unmentionable horrors, but most had vanished. And all around these scenes of destruction were prints from feet twice as large as Rapha’s. It appeared Lucifer’s new breeding program flourished.

Rapha was of the firm opinion those already dead were the more fortunate.

These events made it more imperative than ever to avoid human association since even normal-sized men viewed Rapha with murder in their eyes, assuming with one look that he was in league with the aggressors. So their lives became even more isolated. Rapha taught Eve and the child the art of blending with their surroundings, an art he owed in great part to Kal. Their cloaks were woven of nature’s hues—mottled gray, muted green, and shades of brown—which enabled them to pass under the sun like drifting shadows, and the coverings for their feet left almost indiscernible tracks. In fact, when the young one stepped through soft earth, he learned to leap lightly on his toes as Rapha had taught him, so his imprint more closely resembled a small hoof.

They even developed their own method of communicating with their hands. It was useful not only when they did not want to frighten a wary animal but it also came in handy when they needed to evade humans.

Their primary dwelling was a well-hidden cavern where sunlight shone through a high cleft and plentiful water flowed. When the weather was too hot or too cold the cavern provided protection from the elements and a fairly temperate clime. In this sanctuary, Eve and Rapha coaxed many species of food-bearing plants to thrive but they also tended small gardens not far from the entrance to their dwelling, making sure their fruit trees, vegetables, or plots of grain were intermingled and thus would appear as random growths to anyone who stumbled into their domain.

Once in a while Rapha and Eve would bemoan the child’s lack of society but Rafe, as they dubbed him, knew no other company but theirs, and therefore he was content. If the child desired other company, that need was met by the animals that often gathered around him with ready trust and affection.

Even at a tender age, Rafe was a marvel within the animal kingdom. He was gentle, and, through careful observation and Rapha’s expert guidance, he had learned to gauge the creatures’ moods and mimic their methods of communication. Rapha and Eve soon stopped worrying about these interactions since Rafe had demonstrated the ability to disarm the most distrustful of animals—from the venomous vipers to the hungry mountain cats. Also, due to his size (by the age of seven he was as tall as most human men) none dared to consider him prey. Thus their main directive for the boy when he went out to explore was, “Do not be seen.”

Usually this was a simple accomplishment since their dwellings were so remote, but Rafe insisted that when humans were near, “everything tells me it is so. I can smell them on the wind, the animals are quiet and their ears point toward the danger.” Although large in size, Rafe possessed amazing agility and stealth. Sometimes even Rapha’s keen eyes blinked in wonder when the boy seemed to melt from sight, blending in with the tall trunks of trees and the swaying shadows.

Once when Rapha went out of doors to retrieve the boy for the night, he searched in all Rafe’s usual haunts but found no trace. When he finally returned to their cavern entrance, wondering how he would inform Eve that the child was lost, his attention was drawn to a bush that quivered although no wind stirred—a bush, tall and wide, where no bush usually grew. Even then, the guise was convincing, but Rapha reached out with his thoughts, probing the mysterious phenomenon.

Ah! Rafe had learned to shroud his mind as well as his body. Later, Rapha would rave to Eve, “He is truly gifted! Not even eight full cycles of the seasons from birth yet even Adam did not possess such unity with creation!”

But for the moment, Rapha had to correct the misuse of this ability. “Rafe!” he commanded, “Your talents must never be used selfishly. Come out!”

Slowly, the overhanging branches of the tree snapped back into place and Rafe unwrapped the dark cloak from his legs. The boy’s expression was meek, but mischievous sparks lit his dark eyes, eyes that reminded Rapha of Sheatiel. Despite himself, Rapha felt a proud smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Rafe, always intuitive, read the forgiveness in his father’s eyes, “I’m sorry, father, but,” he strode forward brushing a hand through his thick mop of curly dark hair, another trait inherited from his mother, “I did it! I finally fooled you! Nothing ever fools you! I watched the trees and I thought like the trees, and I felt the breeze like the trees….”

On and on the man-sized child enthused as love warmed Rapha’s heart. The boy treasured creation. It was a part of his soul. He loved the simple delights of beauty and peace. These gifts would enrich him throughout his lifetime and, someday… would he have children to teach those same values?

So they enjoyed a contrived peace. Rapha and Eve invested the best of themselves in the offspring of Cain, and their own friendship flourished, never replacing the loves they had known, but forging a formidable team nonetheless.

But in a world slipping into madness, this momentary respite could not last. When Rafe was only nine years old, chaos severed their patched home.

Perhaps Rapha had become lax in his vigilance; trusting in their hidden stronghold and his family’s ability to melt into nature. But, looking back, Rapha was assured that Adonai had directed even the horror of that fateful day.

It was the cries of a child that drew them. In the late afternoon of a day heavy with oppressive heat, a child’s terrified screams reached their ears.

Rapha could sooner have held back the ocean’s waves than prevent Eve and Rafe from responding to that cry. It was one thing to ignore evil running rampant far away but quite another matter when suffering was on one’s doorstep. Even as the words, “We must be cautious,” were on his lips, the others were rushing toward the cries, keeping to the shadows but determined to reach the child without delay. As they drew closer to the source of the sound Rapha smelled Lucifer’s calling cards—fear and human blood. Marauders were close, their cruel thoughts filling Rapha’s mind. They were searching for the child. Their heavy footsteps and harsh voices echoed as they sought a way down to where the child had fallen. Fallen?!

Rapha sensed another with thoughts centered on the child, her mother, but the woman’s frantic desire was that the child
not
be found.
“I hear you, love. You’re alive. Run! Please run!”
The mother’s heart begged.

Then they saw her in the fading light, a small girl, not far from the age of suckling, with bloodied hands and gashed legs that peeked from beneath a torn, muddy garment. The cause of her screams was obvious. She had apparently tumbled into a patch of mountain nettles. With a gasp of maternal sympathy, Eve rushed forward murmuring endearments and assurances, and soon returned to the shadows with the crying child nestled in her arms. However, when the girl beheld Rapha and Rafe, terror filled her eyes and she screamed as visions of horror filled her young mind and pummeled Rapha’s.