THE FALL (Rapha Chronicles #1) (The Rapha Chronicles) (23 page)

The sight of Eve’s distress during birth—the blood, gore and newborn wails—were bringing forth horrific memories for Kal. The man’s protruding eyes stared down at the babe in his arms, but he was living another moment: the beloved Eliana in travail, his own baby in his arms.

Rapha was pulled into Kal’s emotional sphere even as he completed the stitches on Eve, cleansed the site one last time and added a light poultice of herbs to strengthen and protect the vulnerable wound.

Now he must tend the babies’ cords, cut them short and burn the end to staunch the flow of blood. After heating the sacrificial knife Rapha stepped toward Kal.

Horror and fear flooded Kal’s features as he leapt to turn his back to Rapha, his bent body forming a living shield for the newborn in his arms. “No! It is not his fault! You will not harm him!”

Rapha reassured Kal. “No, my friend. I will merely burn the severed cord. No harm will come to him.”

Kal’s hands remained ready to intervene as the blankets were parted and the glowing knife approached. When the scent of burned flesh assaulted his nose, the stoic warrior succumbed to his darkest nightmare. Rapha tossed the knife back into the fire in the center of their shelter just in time to catch Kal’s crumpling form.

Smoke everywhere. Flickering shadows and a sickening scent of burning herbs… the smell made his head heavy while something in his heart fought the sensation. His heart. It was his heart he cradled against his breast. He was handing her over. No! He must snatch her back from them, from the men with their flowing robes and noble faces that flickered in the wafting fumes to become hideous, grasping beasts, licking their lips, eager for a kill.

When Kal came to, he was on his back outside the shelter with a cold rain lashing his face and Rapha’s concerned expression above him.

Panic once more flooded in. “Where is the baby? What have you done?”

“Both the babies are with Adam. All is well.” Rapha’s hand was on Kal’s shoulder. “No, do not rise. You… fell over.”

Kal leapt to his feet. “Ugh! A great lot of help I am! Get in there and tend Eve. I am fine!”

Rapha, noting the pounding vein in Kal’s temple and his trembling hands, knew this statement was far from true. “Of course,” Rapha said as he stepped back inside the shelter’s heavy animal skin doorway.

But Kal’s memories continued to assail Rapha’s mind and he peeked out just in time to see Kal sink to his knees, knobby hands covering his face.

With a quick invocation of Adonai’s peace, Rapha had to train his thoughts once more on the newborns… and their parents.

So much balanced on the knife’s edge of that moment. Eve’s life hung by a fragile thread and, as Rapha continued his ministrations to her, he felt the turmoil in Adam’s heart.

There the young man stood, cradling the spawn of his enemy in his arms, his face a mask of fear, revulsion and, remarkably, pity.

“I cannot,” Adam gasped, “please, Adonai, do not ask it of me.”

Rapha did not need to ask what the Almighty required. The words were pounding through his frame as well.

Adam, with dark circles under his eyes and Eve’s blood yet staining his garment, spoke Adonai’s directive, though each word ripped through his lips as if composed of flaming thorns.

“Teach them My ways. Love them with My love. Nourish, cherish, and instruct them as your own flesh.”

Soon, Eve revived enough to reach for the babies and Adam took them to her. With coos of adoration she snuggled them close with an unquestioning maternal instinct. Even the second-born babe responded well, grasping to a fold of her robe and drinking deep with an expression of bliss.

Physically, it appeared, all would thrive. But Rapha needed no divination to know their struggle had just begun.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Enemy Within

Rapha surveyed the surrounding land. It was a glorious sunrise with streaks of bright, awakening light kissing the tops of distant mountains with molten pink and gold while a salt-laced breeze teased a flock of waterfowl inland to rush overhead in a frantic, squawking V. He loved this land. Ever since their little band had settled here nine years ago, he felt they had found the closest thing to paradise the world could offer. With hard work and patience they had carved beauty and function and even, he fancied, gratefulness from the rescued terrain that had responded to careful cultivation, rewarding them with a dwelling that flowed with plenty.

For the most part, their borders had been peaceful. Beyond the occasional wandering wild animals and their constant struggle with nature’s unpredictability, they had dwelt unmolested, well fed, and content.

Adam and Eve insisted their animal sacrifice was all the protection they needed, while Kal, who had the deepest reverence for their worship, never relaxed his guard.

Rapha’s own views fell between the two. Yes, the sacrificial lamb held back Lucifer’s claim,
and
evil required constant vigilance. Once again he sensed the brooding tension of those last days in Eden. In their years of apparent peace, reports had continued to reach his ears, mostly from the ravens who knew no borders, of men of immense size who fought and conquered, then destroyed all within their grasp. Thus he knew Lucifer’s breeding program flourished.

Rapha longed to forget their enemy, to focus only on their flourishing family and rich harvests. He could hope Lucifer would forget his seed born to Eve but Rapha was too well acquainted with Lucifer’s ways to accept complacency. Rapha had no doubt Lucifer knew of Cain and Abel, of their height and strength that proved their angelic lineage. And though Rapha no longer held counsel with the heavenly host, he could read the stars and understand the overriding mood of nature that pointed to the same conclusion: Their little corner of this land was an island in the midst of a fast-rising sea of evil.

He took a deep breath, cleansing his mind of Lucifer’s threat as his eyes swept the valley’s horizon.

“Never let him steal the ‘Now,’”
Adonai’s words from the garden again resounded in Rapha’s heart. For this moment, this sweet breath of fresh day with the rim of sunlight peeking over the edge of their land, Rapha would enjoy the hum of bees, the musky scent of freshly tilled soil, and the warmth of morning’s first light on his face.

Soon he expected to hear Cain and Abel’s young voices raised in the excitement of continuing rivalry. What would today’s challenge be? Throwing the spear for distance? Perhaps target practice with the same? Last week it had been wrestling and footraces. The strapping lads were constantly inventing new ways to compete.

Such had been the way of things since their birth when the two were lifted from Eve’s womb seemingly interrupted in a struggle for supremacy, a struggle that almost cost Abel his life. How the three men had cried out to Adonai in that crucial hour and how grateful they had been when both mother and second-born babe had recovered.

Day by day the lads had flourished, consuming more food than Rapha could have imagined. Long and lean, both boys possessed handsome faces, abundant hair, and razor-sharp minds that quickly grasped and mastered any new skill. But they differed in other aspects. Cain’s hair was lighter, containing the hues of sand and sun-bleached wheat while Abel’s was deep brown with burnished streaks of copper. Both kept their long hair secured in braids for ease and simplicity. Thus far the boys were humble regarding their beautiful faces and perfect bodies since they were only nine and did not concern themselves with such things. Besides, except for Kal, others in their lives were also tall and perfectly proportioned. Cain was broader, thicker of muscle and bone while Abel remained slightly taller and more slender. In this way each was built for a different type of strength. Cain excelled in contests based on brute force and distance while Abel bested his brother in endurance and accuracy.

When they had outgrown wrestling with their mother, they roughhoused with Adam and Kal (who could get the upper hand with dirty tricks). Rapha remained slightly taller and broader in build, but the boys were growing at an alarming rate. If the size of Cain and Abel’s feet were any indication, they would soon be at least two heads taller than Rapha. Even now he refused to wrestle with the lads since, if put to the test,
he
possessed the maturity of self-control, but the twins, Cain in particular, threw off all restraint in order to win.

This fact marked one of the overriding differences between the boys. Abel had an uncanny connection to the emotions of others while Cain viewed most emotions as weakness. The thought of being the cause of another’s pain was unconscionable to Abel. Rapha felt this was one of the reasons the animals in Abel’s care trusted the boy so implicitly. Cain, on the other hand, had his mother’s love of growing things and reserved his empathy for them. He reveled in the backbreaking labor of tilling the stubborn soil and nourishing the crops, trying to improve them year-by-year. He doted on his vines, trees and stalks just as carefully as Abel cared for his flocks, with an instinctive, protective, practically maternal attachment. In fact, one thing sure to puff Cain’s chest with pride, almost as much as besting his brother in physical contests, was a compliment at mealtime comparing his handiwork to the unsurpassed fruits of Eden.

If only… Rapha caught himself. Once again he was wishing Cain could be more like his brother. Abel was a happy lad, whistling through his days and bringing cheer while Cain tended to be moody. Abel took worship of Adonai more seriously and begged to hear Adam and Eve’s stories of dwelling in the garden over and over, whereas Cain would appear distracted or even bored.

For Abel, it was simple to love and be loved. Not so for Cain who was easily angered and grew sulky when he was not the center of attention, which was often since Abel was a gifted jokester.

Rapha chuckled as he recalled Abel’s antics at a recent evening meal as he re-enacted Kal’s anger toward a butting ram. “Stupid beast!” The boy had imitated Kal’s gravely growl to perfection as he aimed a kick at the imaginary ram’s rump. When Abel had raced around the room, exaggerating Kal’s bow-legged pursuit of the unfortunate ram, even Kal had laughed until he cried.

Before the laughter had died, Cain had stalked from the room.

But the next morning it had appeared Cain’s foul mood had passed when he whooped with joy as his spear outdistanced Abel’s.

Thus, though each had their own strengths and areas of expertise, they tended to be evenly matched.

But their greatest rivalry was for their mother’s favor.

Eve reigned supreme in their eyes. One touch from her graceful hand or one smile of approval was their greatest reward; therefore, they pursued these tokens with even more determination than they ran their races. And if one ever felt the other had bested him for her regard, civil war was inevitable. Rapha tried to stay abreast of the twins’ moods so he could be on hand when tempers flared and fists began to fly, but they had become adept at cloaking their emotions and thoughts from him—a talent Rapha had only encountered in Lucifer—until they could sneak away and beat the fire out of each other without interruption.

Suddenly Rapha felt panic flow over him in a wave. “Cain! Abel!” Adam’s voice broke the morning’s peace. Rapha leapt to his feet, his mouth set into grim lines, as the familiar feeling of frustration and fear from the thoughts of Adam, Eve, and Kal crashed upon his mind. Those two rascals had run away—again.

As Rapha ran to join the search, he thought back to the first time Cain and Abel had snuck away in the night. For two harrowing days Adam and Rapha had sought Cain and Abel only to come upon them in the foothills of the mountains, hungry and wounded but glowing with pride because they had fought off a mountain cat. They were unrepentant about causing worry until Adam spoke of their mother. When they heard of Eve’s tears they had apologized profusely and submitted without a peep to Adam’s lashing of their backsides with a thin reed.

On the long journey home with the boys traipsing ahead rubbing their sore hindquarters, Adam had confided to Rapha his pride in Cain and Abel for their bravery but his concern for their curiosity. “I want to tell them the truth of their heritage but what will that do to them? Will they hate me? Will they become fascinated with Lucifer? How can we know the time is right?”

All good questions—for which Rapha had no easy answer.

He should have seen this coming, Rapha chided himself as he went through the motions of checking the boys’ favorite haunts—though his heart knew they were headed once more toward “the others” who dwelt beyond the mountains. Just the night before the boys had begged Kal to speak of the cities beyond the mountains where he used to dwell. He had indulged them, spiking the stories with plenty of battle strategy and intrigue to quench their boyish lust for adventure. Usually, after Kal’s reminiscence, the boys would press their father to take them on the long journey to Kal’s former home, to which their father always replied, “When you are a bit older.”

But not so last night. The two had thanked Kal for the stories without bringing up their usual request and had retired early.

Now, from all appearances, Cain and Abel, gone once again, had taken only skins of water, a bit of food, and their spears.

To add to their alarm, Eve had been tormented with dreams of winged beasts swooping from the heavens to snatch Cain and Abel. Adam said she had awoken screaming, convinced Lucifer had finally come for the boys and she would never see them again.

So Adam and Rapha packed a few essentials and set out quickly leaving behind a panicked Eve and the ever-faithful Kal. On they trudged, following the boys’ fresh trail out of the valley and up into the mountains, stopping for only a few hours each night for rest and a scant meal.

Even with such a pace, they did not catch up to Cain and Abel until the third day. They came around a bend to find the two boys perched upon a large rock, their eyes red-rimmed with fatigue but their minds clearly set on continuing the journey.

“We are not children anymore!” Cain insisted and, indeed, because they were tall enough to look their father in the eye, Adam could hardly argue the fact.

“We can take care of ourselves!” Abel chimed in. “Besides, how can we prepare to defend our lands if we have no idea of the enemy’s strength?”

“That’s right,” Cain added, building to his most convincing argument. “Is there something you think we’re not ready to see? Something you’re trying to hide? You have always said we should be honest with each other.”

Adam glared at his headstrong boys, then raised questioning eyes to Rapha who watched the proceedings with a wry smile. Adam did not even have to ask. His old friend was amused by how much the boys were acting like him in younger days. With a sigh Adam voiced one last protest.

“But your mother is sick with concern for you. She needs to know….”

“Right. So you go back to let her know we’re okay….”

“And we can continue on with Rapha.” Cain finished Abel’s thought.

Adam tried in vain to mask a smile at their well-rehearsed arguments. “So you want to be rid of me?”

“No, but Rapha has been here before and you haven’t.” Abel referred to Rapha’s tales of wandering these lands long before Adam was even born.

After a private conference, Adam and Rapha agreed to the boys’ plan, deciding a guided exploration was preferable to another boyish escape.

With one last admonishment from their father, the three watched Adam begin the solitary journey home. The boys’ excitement overflowed. They let out whoops of victory as they once more turned to delve further into the unknown. Rapha was struck with misgivings but their sense of adventure was contagious. He began to enjoy the holiday, revisiting the role of instructional guide to enthusiastic minds.

For their part, Cain and Abel were glad to have a guide who never failed to locate water and food. Exploring was much more fun when their stomachs were full. The boys were excellent marksmen with their spears. They rejoiced to have the challenge of hunting for survival or fending off a ferocious animal, although the latter did not happen often enough for their satisfaction; just a hungry she-wolf who tried to steal their felled duck in a barren mountain pass. (Rapha did not allow them to kill her, explaining she had a hungry litter of pups nearby.) The next day they intentionally left another duck at that spot. Also, when night began to fall in the mountain passes and a cold wind blew, they were immensely grateful for Rapha’s finesse in building a snug shelter.

Indeed, those quiet nights tucked into a lean-to of stripped bark or, when it was warm enough, a tent of their animal skin cloaks with a fire and fresh game roasting on long sticks, were the height of adventure for the boys who felt someone was finally treating them like men.

But, ten days into their journey, disaster struck.