The Fall - By Chana Keefer

CHAPTER Twenty-Five

Sheatiel



Flames everywhere. A small girl cowers as the fire licks at her feet and burns the edge of her garment. She screams for her mother. A hand is reaching through the tongues of fire. She sees the face of a beautiful woman.

A familiar face.

A trusted face.

The child is yearning, struggling toward the haven of the woman’s arms. She touches the outstretched fingers.

Immediately the woman’s hand becomes clawed and grasping and the long hair becomes vipers hissing about her head. Her smile becomes rows upon rows of sharp, pointed fangs dripping gore. The fangs open wide and lunge for the child who is screaming, running, but everywhere fire blocks her path.

She is falling, down….

Down into darkness.


Rapha woke, covered in sweat, to stare at the dim fire’s glow on the cave wall. Once again, the violence of the girl’s dreams had invaded his own. He shut his eyes, wishing for a moment’s release from her pain but the images remained. At least these dreams helped him understand why one so young and gifted with such beauty would desire death. This one had experienced horrors beyond human capacity. Though her nighttime terrors were disjointed shadows, he understood those she trusted most had betrayed and abandoned her, leaving her vulnerable to—what?

He sat up and studied the young woman who flinched in her sleep. Her garments, though heavily mended, were of the finest silk with threads of pure gold woven throughout and, though she was well along in pregnancy, her limbs and face could not have been more perfect. With her thick, waist-length braids, dark-lashed eyes and inborn grace, she was the type of woman sure to attract the attention of kings. Rapha sighed as he turned away to stir the fire and the herbed liquid he had left next to the coals overnight. Her beauty had most likely been her curse. Men ruled by Lucifer’s ways knew only how to manipulate and destroy, not nurture.

As he inhaled the fragrance of fresh lavender in the steam, he felt her awaken, her eyes a scalding hatred that pounded his skull along with her intense desire for a large rock to smash that skull and escape… or a knife, or a poisoned dart….

“Greetings,” he turned, interrupting her murderous thoughts. “No, please do not move.” He spoke as soothingly as possible and took a step back to disarm fear. “You will re-open the wounds.”

“Did you take the baby?” The genuine concern surprised him.

“No. For the time being, the babe is safe in your womb.”

Relief and fear, love and panic raced across her features and beat against his thoughts. But her anguish assured him of one thing: she could never again try to harm the child within.

Rapha could see the band of iron behind her eyes working to dam the flood of emotion. Never, even among stalwart warriors, had he beheld greater self-control. The opposing forces required to forge such strength must have been formidable indeed.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

The lie hung between them.

“Help me to understand,” he filled a bowl with broth and set it within her reach, noticing how she stiffened at his approach. “You try to kill yourself, yet you fear poison.” He reached for the cooler, larger bowl containing the solution for bathing her wounds, inhaling the scent of pungent herbs. He inserted a finger to taste. Yes, it was ready.

“Bring that one to me,” she commanded.

“But this is—”

“I trust actions, not words. Do as I say.” She winced as she propped herself on an elbow and glared, daring him to speak.

Rapha obeyed and backed away. She brought the second bowl to her lips, her eyes watching his every move as she took a wary sip. Immediately she gagged and coughed, gasping at the knifing pain. Rapha rushed to support her, holding the original bowl to her lips. She thrashed at his touch and the braids of her hair lashed him like metal-tipped whips.

“Please. You will harm the child.”

She stopped struggling and took a sip, but the feral expression remained.

When he released her they regarded one another. Even without his empathic abilities the message screaming from her eyes would be clear. You touch me again and I will kill you—or die trying.

But she needed his skills. With every second the color was draining from her face as the red stain once again spread beneath her. Abruptly he turned to exit the cave. It was time for reinforcements. Rapha whistled and a large raven flew to his outstretched hand. After the message was encoded, the bird rose and began its graceful descent into the valley.

Within the hour Eve was at his door.

“What is it?” she asked, her face flushed by the climb.

Rather than answer, he led Eve by the hand into the cave. When her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she gasped and rushed to the young woman’s side. “Sheatiel!” But at the sight of the blood she took over and Rapha assisted, bringing the warmed water and clean strips of cloth.

“Go away,” the girl, Sheatiel, commanded Rapha, though the words seemed to take the last of her strength.

Eve gathered Sheatiel’s cold hands into her own and spoke calmly. “I need him here, but only I will touch you.”

Shealtiel gave the slightest of nods and lay back but her eyes remained watchful.

Rapha faced the cave’s entrance as Eve explored the girl’s wounds. To her credit, Eve did not allow even a gasp to escape her lips as she pulled aside the blood-soaked wrappings.

“The cuts are deep,” Rapha stated. “For now the babe is safe but she must remain still and calm. The wound must be thoroughly cleaned and,” he hesitated, “sealed.”

“I will go with you to retrieve sufficient water,” Eve said with a stiff smile as her fingernails gripped Rapha’s arm and propelled him out of the cave and out of the girl’s hearing.

“How do you plan on sealing the wound when she will not let you touch her?” Eve hissed, her face growing pale at the thought of what she had glimpsed beneath those wrappings. She crossed her arms and shook her head, “If you were assuming I would do it….”

“No. The tear within and without must be mended by a skilled, steady hand, and quickly. Every moment mother and babe are in greater danger.”

A hint of color returned to Eve’s cheek. “Then how….”

I know where to acquire a certain flower that, when properly prepared, will cause her to sleep but,” he sighed, “someone will need to explain.”

He waited, watching Eve’s eyes narrow as she bit her lip in thought.

Finally she gave a decisive nod and turned toward the cave, her chin jutting at a familiar, stubborn angle. Rapha smiled. Never when he had seen that expression had Eve failed to accomplish her desire.

But in the realm of strong wills, Eve had met her match in Sheatiel.

“No,” she was still saying when Rapha returned to the cave, the bright blooms in his arms. Sheatiel was pale and her voice was weak but she was adamant. “Never. Do what you need to do,” she looked to Rapha, “but keep your… your… sorcery away from me.”

“I am simply trying to spare you pain,” Rapha replied.

“Better to have pain than to leave my soul unguarded.”

“But my hands must be steady. If you were to move suddenly—”

“I. Will. Not!” Sheatiel’s dark eyes flashed with panicked determination that told Rapha further argument was useless.

And since the work had to be done before she lost any more blood, Rapha began.

“You truly trust him?” Sheatiel asked, not even bothering to keep her voice low as Eve bathed away the blood once more.

“Yes. With my life.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Always. In fact, I was once in your position and he saved my life… and the lives of my children.”

Sheatiel lay back, gripping Eve’s hand as the procedure began. Throughout the ordeal, no cry escaped her lips, even when tears ran from the corners of her eyes and she had to squeeze Eve’s hand so tightly the fingers turned purple.

“I can give you just a bit of the water from the flowers to ease you….”

“No,” she gasped before Rapha could finish his offer.

But later when Sheatiel’s face was pale and she bit her lip to stifle a scream, Eve put the liquid to her mouth and Sheatiel drank a few sips.

When she finally gave up consciousness—whether from the drink or from pain he could not be sure—Rapha sighed with relief. The obvious torture on her face and the dark memories the pain resurrected in her mind had been distracting to say the least.

“Will she be alright?” Eve asked when Rapha at last finished his ministrations.

“Her body should recover,” Rapha replied, “but the heart wounds in this one are much more serious than those I stitched. Only Adonai can heal those.”

That night Rapha fell asleep with a hand on Sheatiel’s wrist to ensure her heart continued to beat, hardly realizing when his own slowed to match her rhythm.


Rapha pauses in his memories. Sheatiel’s image provides a welcome respite to his painful thoughts. Ever after, next to the image of the Holy One who had cleansed his stain, hers was the face in his memory that brought comfort.

Agony was to come, more than he could have imagined, but in the beautiful, tortured soul of Sheatiel, Rapha tasted the sweetest nectar of all his years in exile.

So he savored those days, moving slowly through every recollection of her slightly husky voice and expressive hands, graceful and tapered, gesturing when she spoke. Like her personality, her eyes were multi-layered with flecks of green and gold in the brown. They seemed to grow darker or lighter with her mood but always they reflected deep waters of thought and feeling, ranging from turbulent to tranquil more quickly than leaves tossed before a storm.

Sheatiel—the rose that bloomed among the thorns of that turbulent time.


Two days and two restless nights had passed since Rapha’s operation on Sheatiel.

Rapha woke to pressing fear. In the valley he saw bright pinpoints of fire rushing toward the settlement. Invasion! With one swift movement he swung the cloak from his shoulders onto the small campfire at the cave’s entrance, extinguishing its telltale light. Then he listened.

He could feel the malice. Closer and closer a hideous intent was slinking toward them. He crept to where Eve slept, placed a hand over her mouth and whispered instructions. While she went to Sheatiel, Rapha crept out of the cave and up the rocky slope.

Yes, desperate measures were in order. He could sense ten distinct entities but one among them wielded sorcerous power. It was this power that drew them like wolves after the scent of blood.

He felt an excited quickening of their pace. Their quarry was near. They were aiming directly for the women… no. It was Sheatiel they wanted. Her image was clear in the sorcerous one’s thoughts. Now Rapha’s physical ears detected their approach.

Only one thing remained. He slipped back to the cave and located the rope he and Kal had placed behind the rocks by the entrance. After he ensured the women were well back from the opening, Rapha pulled.

As the deep rumble descended he threw his cloak over Eve and Sheatiel and there they remained, hands over their ears, while the cave floor shook under their feet and the world crashed around their heads.

“What have you done? We are trapped,” Sheatiel said between coughs that caused her to choke with pain.

“There is another way out,” Rapha replied. Then he paused and reached with his senses.

“But—” Eve began.

“Ssssh.”

A tense moment followed as they sat in the smothering darkness with no sound but their breathing. “Five yet remain,” Rapha whispered. “There is one who can sense us. He knows her face. He is—”

“AAAAAH!” Sheatiel thrashed in the darkness and Rapha felt her cower against him with her hands over her ears, “No, no, no…” she repeated over and over as she shook her head and moaned until another shriek escaped her lips and she slumped against him, deathly still.

“Sheatiel!” Eve screamed.

“Abba, Adonai,” Rapha gathered Sheatiel’s cold body into his arms and pressed his lips against her hair as intense evil assaulted his mind.

He was barely aware of Eve’s whispered prayers as he wrestled for Sheatiel’s life, commanding, rebuking, cursing, and pleading as the evil presence pounded down, enraged by their resistance.

Finally, Sheatiel gasped for air and Rapha felt her heart thump against his chest. “Alleluia,” he murmured as relief coursed through him.

A thunderous “CRACK!” shook the cave floor and rumbled away into the mountain above their heads.

“Hurry!” Rapha stood with Sheatiel in his arms, “Eve! Take my arm! Do not let go,” he ordered, feeling his way blindly to the back of the cave as rocks crashed around them.

They moved as quickly as possible in the suffocating darkness. Finally the crashing ceased behind them and Rapha paused to wrap Sheatiel against his back with the long sash of his garment. Her heart was beating but she had not regained consciousness.

“What happened to her?” Eve asked.

“Sorcery. Someone trained in evil tried to kill her.”

“But, why?”

“They want the child.”

“Why?”

“They serve the father of the child. He sent them.”

“But—” Eve’s words were cut off by another rumble and rocks began once more to crash around them. Rapha pulled her forward until he felt an opening on the left. They huddled there until the noise ceased. Rapha reached behind him until he felt the folds of a bundle. “Thanks to Kal we will now have light in the darkness.” He pulled out a torch and the sparking stones.

“Do you know, Rapha, I could see you.”

“Hmmm?” He struck the stones together.

“When Sheatiel screamed and you were praying, you… got brighter. Then, right before she began breathing again, the light passed into her.”

Rapha blew gently on the tiny spark until it ignited the oil-soaked fabric. In the flame’s glow his face was thoughtful. “I could feel Adonai’s power, but I was unaware it was visible. Perhaps you are gifted to see what others cannot.” He brought out a length of rope and tied it around his waist, then attached it to Eve. “The path, if it is still there,” Rapha added, “is treacherous ahead.” Then he stood and held up the torch revealing a lofty cavern with pointed rocks coming up from the floor and dangling from above.

“I have always wanted to ask,” Eve’s words echoed around them, “what, exactly, are you now?”

Rapha chuckled as he waved the torch, seeking the correct passage on the far side of the cavern. “Ah! We could be buried at any moment but Eve has questions.”

“You told us you chose to stay and Adonai changed you but, how? You eat and sleep like me but you are… different. Come now,” she said when Rapha hesitated, “distract me from the fact we are trapped inside a crumbling mountain. I may not get another chance to ask.”

He sighed, “I will tell you what I can but, in some ways, I too am trying to define what I am.”

“You still have power with your words. Is that because you retain the knowledge of angelic language or because that power remains? And you communicate with animals and know the thoughts of others. Again, is this knowledge or remnants of former power?”

“I believe it is both,” Rapha turned to assist Eve off of a high ledge. “I saw Adam display power over the earth’s elements on our last day in the garden. That authority was placed in him from birth and was lost to Lucifer but Adonai promises it will be restored. As for me, as long as I do not mix my flesh with that of mankind I will remain as I am. I will not… fade.”

“Are there others like you?”

“Many joined Lucifer and were banished. But I have not heard of any of them existing in human guise.” Rapha paused, his face thoughtful in the flickering torchlight, “However, the one who tried to kill Sheatiel is also able to shake this mountain. Those feats require ancient knowledge and power. Yes, it may well be one of the fallen of my brethren.”

“Lucifer?”

“No. But most assuredly one in league with him.”

Eve was quiet a moment then she said softly, “So will Lucifer fade… die… since he mixed with mankind?”

Rapha took a deep breath, “No. I am sorry to say, he implanted the seed in you. Even in regards to Adam, Lucifer safeguarded himself and only collected Adam’s seed. He has been mastering the art of corruption for many ages.”

“We were such young fools,” Eve whispered.

“But Lucifer’s evil has taken its toll on him nonetheless. Remember the sacrificial blood from the lamb? Every step away from Adonai galls him. By his actions, he tortures himself.”

They stopped and Rapha held the torch up to light a narrow path with a sheer drop to unseen depths below.

Rapha checked the rope attaching them, then moved forward. “Can you hear the water? We will follow this path to where it leads down to it.” He stopped speaking as images assaulted his mind. “Kal.”

“What is it?”

Rapha shut his eyes, pain etched across his features. “The warriors have discovered Kal’s hiding place. He is protecting the women and children.” Rapha felt fear grip his heart. “They did not acquire what they sought, so they will punish and destroy.” He clutched his head. The images were so real. He had not sought these visions. He had not been praying. But they were so vivid.


Fear filled the children’s eyes. The acrid smell of charred flesh assaulted his nose along with the agonized screams of the animals with no escape from the flames.


“No! Adonai, no!” Rapha’s strength drained away as he watched the carnage. “Please! Brother angels, intervene!” he shouted.

“Rapha,” Eve’s hand was on his shoulder, “perhaps it is more sorcery. Perhaps these things you see are lies,” her voice pleaded for it to be so.

Again the mountain around them rumbled, a huge stone fell two paces behind and they were forced to stumble forward onto the narrow path, the sheer cliff rising above and the water rushing far below. Rapha prayed as he walked, his mind still seeing the torturous scenes, his heart reliving those horrible last hours in Eden. Why was evil triumphing here? Why was Adonai allowing it? Tears ran down Rapha’s cheeks as the path narrowed until he and Eve had to slide forward gripping the cliff.

And all the while they prayed. Over and over Rapha tried to wrest his mind from the visions of destruction but they would not relent. Again the mountain rumbled and in the fight to hold to the cliff the torch fell from his hand, its light flipping end over end until, with a distant splash, its flickering glow was quenched.

Eve screamed, “Rapha, I am slipping!”

“Pray and move forward. We will make it,” Rapha instructed even as a new vision played in the darkness.


It was Kal’s face, teeth bared, the sharp harvest blade slashing into his enemies as he shouted words that Rapha could not hear. Into the picture leapt Eden, vicious and fearless beside Kal. The dog dove at a man who clutched a small girl, and ripped out the man’s throat. The man released his hold on the child and fell, dead, with a startled expression still on his face.

A spear slammed into Eden’s side. Rapha could see Kal’s face as he saw the dog fall, his eyes wide with horror. In the momentary distraction an arrow struck Kal’s shoulder.

Kal twirled and fought as more arrows pierced him and the enemy forces, glowing red from the surrounding flames, closed ranks.


“Rapha!” Eve’s panicked voice pierced his grief. “I… can’t….” She screamed and suddenly her weight was added to Rapha’s crumbling handholds. He inched forward, every movement a strain, convinced at any instant the rock would give way as he clung to scant grooves, sweat pouring down his body, the fact only too clear that three fingers on one hand prevented them from plunging to the rocks below.

“There’s nothing!” Eve cried out. “I’m reaching. Nothing is there,” she sobbed, her cries amplifying off the cavern walls like the despair of a multitude.

Again, the image of Kal was forced before Rapha’s eyes.


Kal’s face was bleeding, his eyes swollen shut, the white tufts of hair gone, ripped away. He was pushed, kicked and beaten until he was thrown to the ground, broken and defenseless.


All was dark. Hope was gone. Rapha clung to the rock weeping, his head beating against the rock as if to remove the horror, sticky warmth now running down his face. He could feel nothing. He could hear nothing.


Let go.

He could not stand the pain. He could not care anymore.

Adonai?

Adonai has abandoned you, his tortured mind hissed. You have failed. Every choice, a mistake. Every hope, destroyed. The Most High turns His face from you, ashamed.

Give up.

Let go.

End the pain.

Let… go.

The hopeless litany beat against him. He was drowning beneath fierce waves, thrown down out of remembrance, forgotten, destroyed.

Let. Go.

He began to loosen his cramped grip.

Through the haze of searing pain he felt something. A heartbeat thumped against his back, beating when his heart longed to cease. Warm breath was on his neck. As if emerging out of deep water, sound returned to his ears. There was a moan and the weight on his back struggled against the ties that held it there.

“Rapha! Rapha! Please! Move!”

That voice. He remembered it. Eve.

As Eve’s weight on the cord kicked and the injured woman on his back struggled, Rapha breathed one word—“Adonai!”

The weight of the women grew tenfold and the blood pounded in his ears, its throb the only sound as repeatedly his anchors on the rock gave way. The voices in his head multiplied.

You fool! You can save nothing, not even yourself. You have led them from danger to certain death!

His strength was gone. He could feel no further chink for hand or foot. The rock to which he clung leaned slightly out over the unknown abyss and the weight of the women pulled him down… down.

“I am sorry,” he gasped as his fingers slipped.

“Rapha! Rapha!” He felt a yank on his waist and realized the weight had lessened. “My foot is on a ledge,” Eve’s breathless voice echoed up, “I see some light ahead.”

Rapha could not see light. He slid down, his feet finally reaching solid rock. It was the last thing he remembered.