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

by Chana Keefer

  Once more he was plunged into Kal’s last hours but this time, rather than the sorcerous connection that had revealed only despair, it was related through the bird’s pragmatic eyes.

  He was soaring over the hills on the outskirts of their domain. A dark mass of men was approaching from the west.

  “The only safe entrance is between those two stones,” the man at the front said. “One long line and stay quiet.”

  The wind whispered through his wings as the bird looked for the short man with white feathers on his head. The man was not in his bed. Bright points of fire were approaching the fields when he located the one called Kal standing among the fruit trees with the dog at his side.

  The bird landed a safe distance from the growling dog and croaked the news of men approaching.

  “How I wish I could understand you. Are you telling me we’re being invaded?”

  The bird bobbed his head.

  “I knew it! If you can understand, friend, alert Rapha,” Kal said before running toward the dwellings. “You old fool,” Kal muttered as he ran, the dog at his heels. “Feeling it all day and hesitating.”

  The bird flew to Rapha’s cave in time to see rocks falling to block the entrance.

  By the time he descended again to the valley, Kal was leading a group of mostly women and children toward the mountain behind which the sun appeared each day.

  “Where are we going?” a small boy asked in a loud whisper.

  “You will escape into the hills,” Kal whispered back.

  “You, too?”

  Kal ruffled the child’s hair and smiled, “Not yet.”

  “Elanor,” Kal addressed the woman at the boy’s side, “straight through the pass and over. You know where the provisions are. Do not look back. Adonai is with you.”

  The woman nodded and took the boy’s hand.

  “Eden. Go with them!” Kal pointed toward the group moving off into the darkness. The dog hesitated, whined, but then obeyed.

  Kal ran back toward the settlement. In the small dwelling closest to the well he entered the dark doorway and came out a moment later carrying a frail woman, Moria.

  “You can stay in the cave until it is safe,” he said.

  The woman murmured something the bird could not hear.

  Kal chuckled, “Yes, I am an old fool but I’m still getting you to that cave.”

  A flaming “whoosh” sailed over their heads and struck the thatch of the neighboring dwelling. Kal ducked his head and ran faster. Suddenly he stopped as out of the shadows two young boys and a girl appeared with Eden at their heels.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We came back to help you,” the taller boy replied. “We know where the trip wires are. We can fight.”

  “Tess!” Kal addressed the girl. “You run into those trees right now or I’ll kill you myself!”

  The girl took one look at Kal’s angry face and ran.

  “But she’s only seven and she’s scared of the dark,” the taller boy spoke again.

  “Tonight the darkness is her friend. All right, Eli, Jason, you man the rocks. Then get out!”

  “No.” Eli stood with his fists clenched. “You taught us to fight, now you want us to run?”

  There was a scream in the trees followed by harsh voices.

  “Tess!” Kal gasped then commanded, “Tess! Nose, eyes, ears, now!”

  There was a man’s yell, “Ow!” followed by a string of curses and, “Where’d she go?”

  “Good girl,” Kal breathed. “Eli! Go!” He hissed and the boys shot away into the darkness.

  Then more arrows flew through the air and lit the dwellings while Kal ran beneath an arching branch and behind a large rock where he deposited the woman in his arms onto the ground, “I’m sorry, Moria,” Kal pulled out the blade from his belt, “I will be back if I can.”

  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.”