THE FALL (Rapha Chronicles #1) (The Rapha Chronicles) (33 page)

Big men. Auda screaming. Da drug away. Heat. Stink. Scared.

As Eve tried to calm her, Rapha found the antidote that grew nearby. He spread the sticky sap on a strip of cloth, then applied the cloth to the nettles in her knees and hands. When he pulled the material away, the child’s cries ceased and she looked at Rapha, then down at her knee, in astonishment.

“That’s right,” he spoke soothingly, “let us take you where it’s safe and we can doctor your wounds.”

Like an abused animal responding to kindness, the child reached toward Rapha. He took her in his arms and she clung to him as they moved through the shadows, an ever-growing threat pushing him to move as quickly as possible even as the girl hid her small face in his shoulder and her heart pounded against his chest.

Once more he felt it, that sorcerous push against his mind that had haunted them in the caves. That same intent now followed their trail. Rapha’s thoughts became confused and his breath came in gasps as he wrestled, attempting to shroud those who ran with him from this piercing hunter.

“Rapha?” Eve gasped. “It’s hard to breathe.”

“Yes, I feel it.”

“It… knows me,” she added.

“I can hide us,” Rafe suggested.

“Quiet,” Rapha admonished. Their predator’s thoughts had fixed on them with renewed intensity when they spoke. Rapha moved faster but soon the crash of pursuit could be heard.

Suddenly Eve gasped and her footsteps faltered.

“What?”

“Cain. I saw Cain.”

“It is a lie. They are coming,” Rapha hissed.

“I must go to him. It is Adonai’s plan.”

“No! I am commanded to protect you!”

But Eve looked at Rapha with that stubborn, immovable expression, “I am certain. They would catch us soon. You know it. This way the rest of you will have a chance. Go!”

The crashes and harsh voices were upon them and the child buried her face in Rapha’s neck, whimpering, her tiny body shivering with fright.

“Take the children to safety. Please!”

As he looked into Eve’s eyes, Rapha discovered the pure peace of Adonai.

“I will preserve her. Trust her to My hand.”

“Come!” Rapha grasped Rafe’s arm and propelled the bewildered boy ahead.

“No! We can’t!” Rafe protested.

“Hurry. It is Adonai’s command.”

“No!”

“Be still deep inside. Hear Him for yourself.”

Rafe’s face flushed with anger and he pushed toward Eve.

“Rafe,” Eve’s quiet voice addressed him, “I am in Adonai’s hands. You must help Rapha protect her.”

The little girl reached toward Rafe and he lifted her from Rapha’s arms. With solemn eyes she reached to wipe the moisture from Rafe’s face.

“Now go!” Eve urged.

So they stumbled ahead, their feet heavy with grief. It was only a moment until triumphant shouts resounded on the path behind them.

Rapha kept track of the marauding party that had settled a few miles away like locusts to devour whatever was good in that land. Daily he sent birds to gather news from their camp since he did not trust his attempts to hear Eve’s thoughts, now warped somehow, as if by a net of confusion. Little could be gleaned of Eve’s fate other than brief sightings by the ravens—who reported she appeared unharmed, and was usually surrounded by women and children who, like her, were captives.

On the seventh morning since Eve’s capture a raven’s caw woke Rapha from sleep. He moved with care so as not to disturb the child they called Auda (the only word she would say) who insisted on pressing her small back against his and wrapping herself in layers of bedclothes even when she slept in a puddle of sweat.

Eve’s message through the bird was short and direct, “I am safe. Stay away. Cain is here. He sought Sheatiel. She is dead. His search is over.”

He probed the bird for more information, gleaning the fact that Eve was well fed and unwounded. Also, the raven, bold when food could be obtained, had entered Cain’s tent to pick at the leavings of a feast and had spied Cain drinking heavily of the fruit of the vine with his head in his hands.

“So,” Rapha mused aloud, “lordship is not all Cain had anticipated.”

For his part, the raven could not understand the concept of low spirits when one had plentiful food. Speaking of food, having delivered his message, the raven was eager to seek his breakfast, so he cocked his glossy, black head and gave another insistent caw.

Rapha pointed toward a patch of ripe melons. “Help yourself, brother raven. And thank you.”

He stepped away from the cavern entrance to savor his relief free from the noise of the bird’s meal.

The eastern sky began to burn with the fast-approaching day. Rapha smiled as the weight on his shoulders lifted. When the children woke he would greet them with a lighter heart and perhaps take them to fish at his favorite stream. With Adonai’s help he would delight in those who remained.

In the coming days, Rafe’s gentleness was further enhanced by the tenderness he showed Auda. Other than that one word, she never spoke of her former life. But Rapha perceived the slaughter of her family, all but her mother, who was a recurring player in Auda’s violent dreams of a beautiful, blonde woman surrounded by leering men.

Caring for Auda required all the finesse of handling a poisonous viper. Even if they woke in the night to the sound of her cries, they quickly learned to avoid her clawing fingers and biting teeth. But in spite of her fiery temperament, a keen intelligence flashed in the depths of her blue eyes, eyes Rafe said reminded him of the color of peacock feathers.

How they missed Eve. Though Rafe and Rapha were able to supply bountiful food, something more than sustenance was needed. They tried to duplicate her homey touches—fresh flowers and sweet-smelling herbs—but now those things were only ghosts of Eve’s presence.

Rafe insisted they should rescue Eve. For the first time the boy became belligerent and disrespectful toward Rapha, even accusing him of cowardice since he had not fought the men who took her.

“She wanted to go,” Rapha said yet again.

“Of course she did! She didn’t want us hurt, but we could have trapped them when they passed through the canyon.”

“And what would have become of her, if we had been captured or slain?” Rapha indicated the small figure with yellow curls who slept wrapped in Eve’s heavy cloak. This brought a momentary end to the argument.

In truth, Rapha second-guessed his own actions. How he desired his secluded mountain cave where he could seek Adonai without distraction, but his responsibilities demanded he stay close to Auda, who became terrified when he was out of her sight, and to Rafe, who entertained thoughts of daring rescue even in his dreams.

In quiet moments Rapha would reach toward Eve with his thoughts but these attempts were still unsuccessful as if she had entered a realm blocked from his perception. So he had to continue relying on his winged friends for news.

On the tenth morning since Eve’s capture, their raven messenger woke Rapha with news. Eve was close by and requesting a meeting.

“Is she alone?” Rapha asked.

The bird gave no indication of danger.

“When is the meeting?” Rafe, stealthy as always, was at his side and had intercepted the communication.

“Now.”

“But Auda still sleeps.”

“Good. I will try to return before she wakes.”

“But….” Rafe started to protest.

“Ssssh. If all is well, I will send for you,” Rapha assured the boy.

As he was exiting the cave, Rafe stopped him. “In case I don’t get to see her, please give her this for me.” Rafe laid a hand on his shoulder and a scene played out in Rapha’s mind.

Eve and a much younger Rafe, perhaps four years old, chased each other through a forest carpeted with falling leaves. Over and over they fell onto the golden piles and she would tickle Rafe as he shrieked with delight.

When Rafe pulled his hand away they were both crying. “It was the best way I could think of to send her my love.” When Rapha reached for him, the boy’s shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

Eve was waiting for him in a glade at the foot of the mountain. When he saw the dark circles under her eyes and the sadness in her face, Rapha wanted nothing more than to toss her over his shoulder and escape.

“Have they hurt you?”

“Oh no. It is known whose mother I am. They wouldn’t dare.”

“Have you seen Cain?”

“Yes.”

“How is he?”

“Miserable. But he is powerful, feared, honored… everything he desired,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Listen,” she hurried on, “I have news and I have only a short time.” Her face crumpled with grief and she struggled to continue. “The child’s mother, Lael, is… has… she took her own life.”

“Were you able to tell her her daughter is safe?”

“Yes,” Eve answered, “it was the only time she smiled. But the fear for her child was all she lived for. Once that fear was gone, she stopped living.” Eve shut her eyes tight. “I couldn’t blame her. The things the men did… oh, Rapha, the way they used her.” Eve’s face flushed and she jumped to her feet, tears shedding unheeded as she paced.

“I am glad she killed the last one to use her! Adonai help me, I am! She rose as he slept, found his blade, slew him, and then… turned it on herself.” Eve fell to her knees, “Oh Adonai! How has Your creation come to this?” The rage and sadness warred across Eve’s face but after a moment’s despair she leapt to her feet to pace again.

“I took her body to Cain. I screamed at him, of what I thought of his kingdom, of his… these savages he calls warriors.

“‘You should die for speaking to me this way,’
he said, and I dared him to do it. I called him a coward and a murderer and begged him to kill me since I could not bear what he has become.” Her tirade of words stopped and she wilted to the ground.

“That’s when I saw it, Rapha. For one short moment, the Cain I love was looking out of those eyes. He is lost. He is tortured. I want to hate him but… he is my son,” she wiped her sleeve across her face. “He agreed that I could come see you but I made him promise to release the other women and children when I return. He knows I cannot abandon them. I pray there is enough honor in him to keep his word on this.”

“Is it safe to send for Rafe and Auda?”

“Is that what you call her? Good. That is what she called her mother. No. I do not trust Cain enough to endanger them.” Again tears flowed down Eve’s cheeks. “Hug Rafe for me. Tell him he filled the longing of my heart. Tell him I will always love him, and I lift his name before Adonai.”

When Rapha presented Eve with the memory Rafe had sent, she sobbed. “Please don’t tell him it made me cry. I will treasure it. I will treasure every memory spent with both of you.”

With one last embrace, she ran in the direction of the warrior’s camp.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Auda

The cycles of the seasons melted away and, to Rapha’s ancient eyes, the children grew at an astonishing pace. Yes, he had experienced childhood before but never as the primary caregiver, where he was so busy with the demands of daily life they seemed to sprout up when he blinked.

At fifteen, Rafe towered over Rapha who had to look up to see the boy’s chin. Auda, whom they guessed to be eight, was tall by human standards but only reached Rafe’s mid-thigh. However, this did not prevent her following the lad like a faithful puppy, climbing, cultivating, and spending hours observing in companionable silence. For his part, Rafe could have gone much farther afield on his excursions if the determined imp with flaxen curls had not bounded up each morning and rushed through her duties to be certain she would not be left behind. Rafe made the mistake of departing before she woke only once, but the red-rimmed eyes coupled with the cold shoulder sufficiently chastised him. He never did it again—at least not without a good explanation.

Rapha’s heart warmed when he would watch the two traipse off together, Auda trotting and Rafe matching his pace to hers, lending a hand to help her leap their creek, a hand stubbornly refused by Auda whose motto in life was, “I can
do
it.”

But on the morning of Rafe’s seventeenth year, as Rapha noticed that the traveling cloak Auda used to trip over no longer reached her knees, he felt a chill of foreboding. Rafe was a man in so many ways and his devotion to the girl was evident. Rapha’s shoulders slumped as he realized his duty, a duty he could delay no longer.

That night when Auda slept, Rapha motioned to Rafe, who followed him out of the cave’s entrance. A cool breeze swept down from the mountain, stirring the pungent fragrance of their herb garden. As they sat to study the nighttime sky, another of Rafe’s favorite pastimes, the boy reached for a mint leaf, crushing it in his fingers before placing it on his tongue. Rapha’s stomach was unsettled as well. Their meal that evening had not been his best, for he had been distracted, rehearsing the words he would share with his son. With a sigh he reached for the mint.

“We need to talk about Auda,” Rapha began, pausing to recall the exact wording he had rehearsed. But Rafe was way ahead of him.

“I think I’ll go away awhile,” Rafe said. “I see the birds and the foxes, how their young leave the nest and make their own way. Adonai has made it clear it is time for me to do the same.”

“How will you tell her?”

The stark grief in Rafe’s eyes tore Rapha’s heart. “I don’t know. She spoke today of how many children she wants to have—only two babies at a time so they can be carried on our backs when we walk.” The boy’s head sank lower. “Don’t worry. I… I know I am a combination Adonai never intended. At times I feel wickedness in me and wonder, if I had lived with my true father….”

“
I
am your father, Rafe.”

“But the blood in my veins is not yours. Those who share my blood roam the land to destroy. Will I become one of them? Will I hurt Auda when the beast inside grows stronger?” The boy’s eyes, so dark and intelligent like Sheatiel’s, begged him to disagree.

Rapha sighed. The rehearsed speech was useless. Rapha reached to Adonai for wisdom while Rafe drowned in despair.

Rafe answered his own question, “The tiger is a killer at heart. The gazelle feasts on the grass. When they grow they cannot deny their nature any more than an apple tree can produce figs,” the bitter edge in Rafe’s voice cut through Rapha’s stupor.

“No, son. I have also witnessed a tree of the best seed, raised with the purest of sunshine and water, produce only thorns.” Rapha said, recalling Lucifer’s origin.

“How much harder is it for a bad seed, then, to produce good?”

“I cannot explain Adonai’s ways but what
we
think is impossible,
He can do.
”

Rafe leapt to his feet as if the ground burned him. “I want to believe that! If you only knew…” He glanced toward the cavern entrance, his face contorting with grief. “I must do what creation has taught me. I will not wait until the evil in me rises up to hurt those I love.”

“Please, Rafe, I have seen both—goodness can spring from evil—evil corrupts what is good. Lucifer was raised in purity while my old friend, Kal, grew immersed in poison. There comes a time
each seed chooses
what will feed and mold it. With Adonai as your source you
will
produce good.”

A flicker of hope shone in Rafe’s eyes but it dimmed quickly like a quenched spark. “But there is more,” he whispered. “If Auda remains with us, with me, she is cut off from others of her kind.”

Rapha could not argue the truth of that statement.

“How will she bear the children she desires? Will she remain content hiding in caves?”

Again Rapha was silent.

“I have enjoyed playing that we are a family but it is best for all if I dwell alone.” A spasm of rage caused the strong jaw to clench. “That is what you were going to tell me, right—that we, those like me, should never reproduce, that the offspring get larger and more evil with each generation?”

Rapha bowed his head. How could he lie? So far, that had been the trend, as if Lucifer had known from the start his mighty hybrid would eventually consume all creation. That was like him. Win, even if no prize remained when the war was over.

“Adonai is cruel,” Rafe said. “He allows me to love when I should not have lived.”

“No,” Rapha protested, “He led my steps to your mother. I loved her with all the passion a life mate could ever feel. You were a gift to me.”

“But you did not mate with her. Did Adonai kill her to prevent it?”

“No—I… cannot say what might have been.” That question opened uncomfortable possibilities, so Rapha hastened on, “There was something wrong, the birthing process was difficult, perhaps if I had not run away because I feared to love her, I would have been there… soon enough.”

“I was too large for her womb?”

He wanted to spare the boy but what else could he say? “You were large.”

Rafe winced as if that word sliced his heart. His head fell into his hands. “I have no choice. I will leave tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

They turned to see Auda’s bright curls shining in the moonlight. “How did we not hear you?” Rapha asked.

“Easy. You were not listening.”

She was right. Rapha must have been deaf and blind not to see the depth of Rafe’s attachment to the girl. Though the light was dim, Rafe’s face appeared pale as if a knife had plunged into his heart.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

“It is time I learned to care for myself,” Rafe said.

“You do that already.” Auda stated.

“Maybe when you are older, I will explain,” Rapha said. “For now, you need to get back to sleep.” He rose to usher her inside.

But Auda would not budge. Her eyes were still on Rafe. “I will wake in the morning and you will be gone.”

“It is not forever….”

“Yes it is! Your body says so.”

Rafe’s eyes pleaded for help but Rapha only shrugged, palms held out in defeat. They had taught her too well. Now, instead of reading wildlife, she was reading them.

“Why were you sneaking away without telling me?”

The pain in Rafe’s eyes disappeared when he turned to look at her. “I must go alone to seek Adonai’s path—without short legs to slow me.”

It was a direct hit. Auda’s eyes opened wide as if her lungs would never expand again.

Rapha placed an arm about her thin shoulders, “It is like the birds when the young leave their—”

“Good!” Auda yelled and shook off Rapha’s arm, her eyes brimming, “I am tired of trying to keep up with your stupid, long legs, and, and you make snort noises when you sleep, and,” she wiped a hand across her cheek, “j-just go live with those stupid, big, giant people and, I hope you never get to sleep, because you all
snort!”

With a loud hiccup, Auda turned and ran into the cavern.

For a moment, even the insects were silent. Finally a nearby cricket gave a tentative chirp as Rafe let out a long breath. “It is better for her to hate me.”

“That was fear and panic,” Rapha sought to soothe the lad, “a long way from hatred.”

“But as the years go by, that is what it will become.”

Rapha took a deep breath of his own. “Remember what happened before she came to us? Her family was slaughtered, all but her and her mother, who were salvaged for the men’s… entertainment. Her mother pushed Auda down into a ravine to save her. She still has a hard time believing she was shoved for the sake of love.”

“And now I have done the same thing,” Rafe whispered. “Will she ever know it was for love?”

“Do you want her to?”

Rafe’s answer was almost too quiet to hear.

“No.”

The next morning Rafe was gone and the light was gone from Auda’s eyes. When Rapha asked her to walk with him she cried. When he asked her to fish with him she cried. When it was time to eat her favorite meal of tender fish with herbs she would not touch it.

In the coming days, Auda stopped laughing and talking. In fact, though she was taller than when she came to them, she reverted to the sad child Rapha first met. On rare occasions she would smile when they came upon a kit of fox pups or a baby goat, but the smile would soon turn to sadness.

Once in a while Rafe sent a raven to gather news but he never gave a report of himself. However, as time went by rumors circulated of a large man who would warn villagers of an approaching raiding party and then melt back into the trees to ambush the marauders, often using trained birds to peck at the eyes of the enemy. Thus Rafe, son of Sheatiel, adopted son of Rapha, became both a legend and an outlaw.