An Alliance Reborn

By Rachel Vanderwood

Born in a time of rising conflict between God's chosen and those who stood against them, cousins Kathryn and Karem were brought together to be raised with the understanding that they would one day be called to fight. Although the circumstance and timing were never known to either of them or their family, when their settlement is attacked, and they are forced to leave their childhood home, they embark on a journey neither one of them are prepared to face, but with the help of a new friend, they finally come to realize the answers they never expected to find.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891303836

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An Alliance Reborn

Rachel Vanderwood

ISBN 979-8-89130-381-2 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89130-382-9 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-89130-383-6 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Rachel Vanderwood

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

About the Author

Chapter 1

We all have that one defining moment in each of our lives when we know that everything is about to change, and life, as we have always known it to be, will never be the same again. We are all given a choice in that moment to resist the change that we are being called to make or open ourselves to explore the possibilities that could potentially follow. Sometimes, the possibilities can lead to disastrous ends, but, sometimes, you might find that there is beauty at the end of your journey. My moment, and where my true journey begins, happened at my special place on one of the mountains that guarded my family's home as I stood on a ledge, holding tight to my father's sword, ready to defend my family and our family's people from the enemy who was standing just a few feet in front of me. I knew why he and his men who traveled with him to invade our settlement had come. I knew what he was looking for, but I wasn't going to offer it to him, even if that meant I risked my life to keep it from him. The sword was a sacred weapon created and blessed by the Holy City. It was my father's sword, and the only other one of its kind in existence belonged to my grandfather, Kassim Al-Lurie.

I wasn't afraid of my enemy in that moment, even though I knew he had experience fighting in many battles when I didn't even have experience fighting in one. Physically, the strength in my body was no comparison to his, and he had a look in his eyes that I had never seen before. But despite the many advantages that he had over me, leaving the odds of my survival against me, somehow, I knew that I was destined to face him. I couldn't surrender to him, even though I was just a twenty-two-year-old girl who was still naive to so many things in the world, especially when it came to standing face-to-face with such an overwhelming threat to the people who meant everything to me. I didn't know how our fight would end or if I would even have the chance to last longer than the seconds it took me to raise my father's sword to defend myself, but as it turned out, I didn't have to.

Although in the moments when we stood in silence, aside from the sounds of my family's guards defending our home against his men on the ground below us lasted only a matter of seconds before our chance meeting was interrupted, I felt like I was lost in a dream as though he and I were the only two people who mattered in it. And when it ended, I don't think either one of us could have ever prepared ourselves for what was to come once we parted ways that night. But no matter what either of our original intentions were, neither compared to the plans that the Lord had already set in place.

Before I share any more of the details of that fateful night, I think it would be best if I start from the beginning to explain the circumstances of a more-than-two-decades-long war that threatened the safety and lives of all the Lord's people. The original conflict that led to this war started years before I was ever born. The initial intent of our enemy wasn't to attack our Lord's people specifically, rather to attack anyone who was weaker and who had what they hoped to gain, but, eventually, circumstances changed as they always do, and their leaders allowed themselves to be consumed by their hatred and desire to seek revenge on the family who took away someone they weren't ready to let go of—a son, a father, a brother, and an uncle. That man was Warin Meier, and my family, my father, is the man the Meiers held responsible for taking his life.

My father's relationship with the Meier family started when he was just a child. He often used them in his stories to teach lessons to my sisters and I to warn us of the dangers of turning away from the Lord to serve your own purpose. Unlike the Meier family, my father didn't have hate in his heart. Despite the destruction they caused and their murderous ways, my father felt compassion for them. He forgave them for the thousands of lives lost in battle, even though not a single member of the Meier family would ever think to forgive him or anyone else who fought with him to defend his name. He prayed for them, hoping that they would one day make a change to allow them a chance for eternal peace before they faced their final judgment, but it was never in their nature to submit themselves to anyone, not even to the Lord. As they saw it, the Lord was just as much to blame for the death of their patriarch's beloved son.

There was a brief period of time after the death of Warin Meier, when the family's influence seemed to diminish, and the rest of the world was allowed the chance to live in peace and not in fear of what they might do to them. My father and my mother's family hoped that peace would remain so that those who the Lord called upon to teach had the chance to share his message, but the Meier's temporary refrain from engaging in their known criminal activities was only long enough for them to regain the influence they once had.

Many of the settlements known to be in association with the Meier family pulled their support away from them once Warin was no longer a threat to their livelihood. His father, Barrett, knew that in order to reestablish the control his family once had, he needed more currency to fund his efforts—silver currency—and there was only one man alive at the time who had enough to satisfy his needs. Harlow was a friend to my father. He was someone he considered family. So when my father heard the news of Harlow's untimely end, he suffered deeply. He blamed himself for not having been there to save his life and protect his assets before they were taken to be used for anything other than just means.

Everyone knew who was to blame for Harlow's death, but the Meiers were clever enough not to leave any proof that they were ever anywhere near his mines. As much as my father wanted to avenge his longtime friend, he held back. He knew that he wouldn't be allowed on his own. As a chosen leader, his duty first was to the Lord. My father could only act when approved by the Holy City, but it was not the Lord's will at the time to allow him the right to seek justice for his friend.

So instead my father prayed for a solution as he agonized over the gruesome circumstances surrounding Harlow's last moments, before his physical life was stripped away from him. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Meiers attacked again. Who it would be and how long before it happened again was still unknown, and when the Meier family did act out again, they made sure everyone took notice. They didn't make my family wait long for the answer. It wasn't a full eight days after my family got word of the attack on Aldane Valley that the Meiers committed a crime so depraved that the Holy City had no other choice than to respond.

As old as he was at the time, Barrett Meier's mind was still sharp enough to understand the consequences of his actions. So when he ordered his men to cross onto holy lands to slaughter the Lord's protected people, he shouldn't have been surprised that the Lord chose to call upon my father and grandfather to act. I think Barrett wanted them to. I think it was always a part of his plan. As old as he was, he wanted to see the end of their reign and the influence of the Holy City. But Barrett was never allowed the chance he wanted. He passed just two days later after leaving everything he owned to Warin's two living sons. Even though one was still no more than fifteen and the other no more than six at the time, he knew that he could trust them to carry on his quest to avenge Warin's death.

His decision led to a brief internal conflict within their family. By then, Barrett had amassed quite a fortune and several of his other children were eager to lay claim to what they felt was rightfully theirs, but they were quickly reminded of their place when they began to challenge Warin's eldest son, Aldric, for he and his younger brother's inheritance. Aldric may have been young and not quite as experienced as many of his uncles were in a fight, but he was clever and quick to let each one of his disgruntled family members know that he wouldn't hesitate to end their threat against him if he thought they would betray him. I only heard the rumors when I was young, but every one of them suggested that even at a young age, he was fearless, ruthless, and eager to settle what his grandfather started.

The day that Barrett Meier was rumored to have died after leaving the eldest of Warin's sons to take control before the youngest was old enough to join him in his efforts was the same day both my cousin Karem and I were born. My family saw our births as a sign that the Lord had purpose in our lives. What that was and how long we had to wait until we would be used was never known until now. All we knew then was that our destinies were one day meant to come together, even though neither one of us knew where our lives would lead us.

Karem and I didn't always have the relationship our family wanted us to have when we were children. I guess, looking back, I was the one who was most resistant to the pairing, mostly because we were so different. He was the seventh son of my grandparents' firstborn, my Uncle Hanan. I loved my uncle. When I was young, he was the only one in the Al-Lurie family I felt a connection to aside from my mother. Karem lived his life to prove himself to his father. It wasn't easy for him. He had a long way to go to earn what he was always so desperate to have. I suppose if I was in competition with six older siblings instead of just two, I might feel the same as he did. And for some reason, my uncle was always the hardest on him. Maybe because he believed, like the rest of my family, that the Lord had a special purpose for his youngest son.

As hard as he tried to please his father, you would think that Karem wouldn't have been so careless as he was at times. He had a way of getting involved in situations that he couldn't easily get himself out of. But the older he got, the wiser he became, and the mistakes of his youth faded away to only leave the memories and the lessons the Lord was trying to teach him. As a child, he at least offered me entertainment when I wasn't being blamed for the mischief he got himself into.

Because of the circumstance surrounding our births, our family decided that we should be raised together. The transition wasn't as simple as everyone expected it to be. At first, my grandfather traveled to my parents' settlement and suggested that I be brought back with him to live with the Al-Lurie side of my family. Karem's mother would then take on the responsibility of filling the maternal role in my life, but I apparently had other plans. I don't remember many of the details, only that I was determined I wasn't going to leave my home.

I was only three at the time. My father told me that until then, my mother and I were inseparable. I never left her side. I'm not really sure the exact reason our relationship later changed, but either way, when my grandfather approached me to take me into his arms and carry me away from her, I wrapped my arms around my mother's neck and held on to her as tightly as I could. I refused to let her go. I screamed and I cried until he finally backed away. He wasn't a constant in my life, and at the time, I really didn't understand our connection. He was, for the most part, a stranger to me, even though my parents tried to explain the relationship between us. I remember being afraid of him more than anything else. I know that it wasn't his fault that he couldn't have had more of an active role in my life to have allowed me the chance to know him as I should. The war affected so many more than the families of those whose lives were lost. So many others in the world suffered too.

My reaction apparently caused my mother great distress. All I remember was her holding me close to comfort me as she begged her father to forgive us. I know my mother didn't want to let me go either, but she was faithful to the will of the Lord in our lives. She knew the duty she had to her family. I don't remember my grandfather yelling at me or trying to force me to go. He eventually left, and I didn't see much of him again after that day.

When my grandfather returned home, he decided to send Karem to live with us instead. It took almost two years before he was able to send him to us, but not by any fault of Karem's. Unlike me, our grandfather was his world, even when he was little. He even resembled our grandfather when he was as a younger man or so we were told. Karem would have jumped off the highest mountain if our grandfather told him to. It was Karem's mother, my Aunt Rana, who had trouble letting go of her youngest son. Just like my mother, she knew that her duty was to the Lord and to our family, especially knowing that as the eldest son, my Uncle Hanan, her husband, would one day lead in his father's place, but she still pleaded with my grandfather for more time. She obviously won her argument, at least long enough to convince him to allow her to keep Karem with her until he turned five. Then his father delivered him to my parents before leaving us to fight in another battle. I remember my father being called to go with my uncle. It was almost a year before I saw either one of them again.

I was too young to understand much of anything then. We were isolated in our community. Our mountains shielded us from the outside world. I heard talks and rumors of battles. I witnessed many of my friend's fathers and even my own leave their families to fight to protect others in the world who could otherwise not protect themselves. I knew the reasons of why they fought, but I didn't fully understand what a battle was or how devastating it could be, not until some of our people didn't return with my father, and even then, I wasn't upset or afraid when I was told that those who were lost were with the Lord. I didn't understand the agony of loss that so many suffered through. I didn't understand what it meant to take a life away. All I was told was that one day, I would be old enough to understand. One day, I, too, would be called to fight.

I wasn't like my sisters. I wasn't like my mother. I wasn't blessed to have their healing powers nor was I as eager to please my mother's family as they were. If I knew it was the Lord's will, I would have been, but my spirit always felt led to believe that my father's settlement was my home. I was born in this place and so were my sisters and my father. I was where I was supposed to be, and the Lord did have purpose for me living there when I was young, but just as circumstances changed for our enemies, there are times in our lives when the Lord calls upon us to move. You may not always be ready. His will may come upon you unexpectedly, but when he appears, no matter in what form or who he uses, don't hold yourself back to act.

My father used to tell me that each one of us plays a role in the most beautiful story ever told. Whether our journeys are meant to cross in this life or the next, when we open ourselves to allow the Lord inside, it is then that we will understand the greatest gift that was ever given. I have always loved the Lord. I have always trusted in him, but it took me most of my life, until now, to truly understand what my father was trying to teach me. Now I know my part, and this is my story of how the Lord blessed a naive young girl with the most powerful weapon he has to offer.

Chapter 2

After my father left, I was still too young to understand the responsibilities my mother faced in his absence. She was left alone to lead our people and raise her children, including her nephew. She also had a gift. One that came with a responsibility to heal the sick in our settlement, one that drew energy away from her every time she used it. Being that my sisters shared the same gift, my mother had to teach them how to use and control it until they were old enough to fully understand what they were blessed with to carry.

I didn't realize then how much my mother took on herself. She never complained, even when her days took more out of her than she had to spare. She was humble in that way. So I guess that's what made it harder for me to understand why she never seemed to have time to spend alone with me or patience when I found myself in trouble, which was more often than I would have liked it to have been. In my defense, any mistakes I made were never intentional, and more often than not, it was Karem who instigated my acts or one of his many like-minded, impulsive friends. I suppose it didn't help that I was naturally stubborn to prove my point, but either way, the longer my father was away, the more I found myself occupying my time alone or with my own friends, rather than with my mother.

I think my father felt compassion for me whenever he returned from having fought in the war before being sent back out again. He was intuitive enough to know that I was different from my sisters, and I needed a different kind of attention than they did. My family still didn't know my exact purpose, but everyone believed that Karem and I were meant to one day fight. The only being who knew the answer for certain was the Lord, and he wasn't ready to reveal his intentions.

I was never bothered by the calling everyone assumed I had. I wanted to be like my dad. Out of the three of us girls, I looked the most like him. I had his fair skin, blue eyes, and blond hair, although mine was much longer. Just like her and my sisters, my mother kept mine nearly waist-length too. My dad kept his short, but, eventually, he did end up growing a beard, like most of the men I knew. He kept it clean and well-trimmed. It was a decision on his part that took my mom a long time to get used to, but love is more than just accepting the physical. Either way, he was still handsome to me, and like my grandfather and Uncle Hanan were to Karem, my dad was my world.

My dad and Karem also shared a close bond. I think he saw him as the son he never had, but my dad never let that get in the way of showing me how much he loved me. He was clever to keep us both actively involved in sharing his time, and he even managed to find time to spend with my sisters and mother, of course, later in the evening when the rest of us were put to bed. He told us that nighttime was his special time to kiss her and let her know how beautiful she still was to him and how much he still loved her.

During the day, whenever he found time between his daily chores, he carved child-sized wooden swords using branches from the trees in our mountains. Karem loved to engage in imaginary battles with me and my dad. His friends would usually join too. It was exciting to me, but I was never as skilled as Karem seemed to be. He made sense to be the kind of warrior our family expected of us, but I never did. I rarely won, but I didn't give up. I tried until I found myself too exhausted to continue, and the worst part wasn't losing to Karem and his friends. It was the thought of disappointing my dad, even though he never told me that he was. I wanted so desperately to be like him, but I didn't inherit his ability to read people or intuition to predict certain situations to know how to act in advance. Karem seemed to be more like my dad in that way, and they weren't even related by blood.

Whenever I lost in a fight, my dad took me aside to cheer me up. He would often tell me how proud he was of me because I never stopped trying. I have to admit it helped me when my dad told me how many times he lost before he won his first fight. He told me that, sometimes, it takes some of us longer to find our way, but when we do, the world will be a better place for it.

My mother knew the bond my father and I shared, and she often used it to her advantage, especially when she was looking for me, and I didn't come when she called me. My dad always knew where to find me. Sometimes, I would be with my best friend, Jesaine, playing by the river or in her room inside her family's private house. And other times, I would be at my special place on the mountain, overlooking our settlement. I often went there when I was in trouble or upset, just to get away and talk to the one being I knew who would understand me. I felt him there, even though I never heard him speak to me.

I have one memory that always sticks out in my mind of that time in my life. Maybe it was because shortly after that time, my father was called away again to fight. It would be at least two years before we saw him again. I was six at the time. I was of course upset after my mother punished me for an act that I felt justified in committing. I didn't deny my involvement, but she wouldn't listen to my reason, no matter how hard I tried to argue my point.

My father was too busy helping one of our neighbors at the time to intervene and listen to what I had to say, so it was left to my mother to be my judge and jury. After she was satisfied in the reprimand I received, she walked away with my sisters and left me alone to cry. For a long time, I thought she would leave me alone in my room when she knew I was upset as a sign of her indifference to my pain, but now I know that it was because she couldn't bear to see me hurt. She wanted me to learn my lesson, and she knew that if she stayed long enough to see my tears, she would pick me up into her arms and apologize for what she had done.

If I knew that then, I wouldn't have snuck out of our house and taken off for the mountain. I knew she didn't like me going alone. She was always afraid that I would get lost or worse, that something would happen to me. So when I left, I made sure that no one saw me. I hid behind our neighbor's houses until I was certain that my way was clear, and no one was present to pay attention, then I ran as fast my six-year-old legs could go until I found myself climbing the mountain path to my destination.

I could hear my mother's calls in the distance below me, once she discovered that I was no longer in my room. I didn't want her looking up to see me so high up on the mountain ledge, so I hid myself inside the mouth of the cave behind me until I felt that it was safe to come out. Once I was certain that it was, I peered my head back out to see if the ledge was still clear, then I slowly walked out of the cave, intent on sitting alone until I was ready to go back home again. I didn't plan on leaving my special place until nightfall, on that particular occasion, but as it turned out, someone else had other plans for me.

I suddenly began to hear the sounds of someone's footsteps as they walked further up the mountain path that led to where I was. I turned to look, and, eventually, my dad began to appear. I should have known it would have been him sent out to find me. He didn't say anything to me at first. He just smiled at me when he knew he caught my attention. Then he sat himself beside me and waited for just a moment before he spoke to me. I knew he wouldn't yell at me like my mother did, but I also knew that she was the one who sent him out to search for me.

Your mother is worried about you, you know.

I know, Daddy.

Do you want to tell me what happened? Semil's mother is still trying to stop him from crying. She just now managed to stop his bleeding before I came up here to find you.

Are you mad at me?

Well, that depends on your side of the story, Kathryn. I'm ready to listen if you're ready to tell me.

Okay, I'm ready. Daddy, he tried to kiss me. I told him I wasn't old enough for you to start my list. I'm still just a kid. He wouldn't listen. He kept chasing me. He pushed me against a tree, Daddy. He tried to make me kiss him back.

That's why you broke his nose?

Yes, Daddy.

That's my girl! But don't tell your mother that I encouraged you.

I won't.

I think I might have a talk with Semil and his mother later. Did you tell Mommy that's why you punched him in the face?

No, she wouldn't listen to me. She spanked me and told me I was acting like a bad girl, and she was disappointed in me.

You know, Kathryn, your mom does love you and is only doing what she thinks is best to raise you the right way.

I know, Daddy, but she doesn't love me as much as she loves Meriam and Olessa.

Now I know for a fact that's not true. Your mother is beside herself with worry right now. She didn't know where you were, Kathryn. She is afraid something might have happened to you.

But it didn't, Daddy, I'm okay. You found me.

I did, but I think you should consider coming back home with me, just so your mom knows that you're safe. You're still young, and if you aren't careful, you could get hurt up here.

"But, Daddy, I am safe up