The Barbed Rose

Praise for Gail Dayton’s

The Compass Rose

“With unadulterated sensuality that practically ignites the pages and a fantasy quest that is as masterfully intricate as it is entertaining, Dayton’s The Compass Rose will absolutely blow away fans of romance-powered fantasy. In a word: wow!”

–Barnes & Noble’s Explorations newsletter

“Gail Dayton has created a world that is so colorful and vivid readers will feel they made an adventurous visit to this enchanting realm.”

–The Best Reviews

“The Compass Rose captured me from the first page…. Gail Dayton eloquently weaves a saga of unrequited love with the fear of rejection that haunts us all [and] cleverly and sagely reveals the heart and soul that unites a group of strangers into a family.”

–Fallen Angel Reviews

“Top Pick, 4–1/2 stars: Court intrigues and romantic interludes keep the plot moving at a brisk pace.”

–Romantic Times BOOKclub

GAIL DAYTON

The Barbed Rose

To April and Rhys.

You make me proud.

And to Jason, who does, too.

CONTENTS

CAST OF CHARACTERS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

GLOSSARY

Cast of Characters

Kallista Varyl, Captain in the Adaran army, naitan of the North, lightning thrower, Godstruck of the One

Torchay Omvir, Sergeant, Kallista’s bodyguard and godmarked ilias

Stone Varyl vo’Tsekrish, former Tibran Warrior, godmarked ilias

Fox Varyl vo’Tsekrish, former Tibran Warrior, fighting partner to Stone, godmarked ilias

Aisse Varyl vo’Haav, Tibran woman, godmarked ilias

Obed im–Shakiri, Southron trader, godmarked ilias

Lorynda Varyl, twin infant daughter of Kallista and Torchay

Rozite Varyl, twin infant daughter of Kallista and Stone

Niona Varyl, infant daughter of Aisse and Fox

Merinda Kyndir, Adaran East naitan healer

Serysta Reinine, ruler of Adara, North naitan truthsayer

Keldrey, Serysta’s bodyguard and reinas

Leyja, Serysta’s bodyguard and reinas

Ferenday, Serysta’s bodyguard and reinas

Syr, Serysta’s bodyguard and reinas

Gweric, Tibran male magic hunter

Joh Suteny, former Adaran guard lieutenant, convict

Viyelle Torvyll, Prinsipella of the Adaran prinsipality (province) of Shaluine and government courier

Karyl & Kami Varyl, Kallista’s twin sisters by blood

Sanda Torvyll, Prinsipas of Shaluine, Viyelle’s birth mother

Saminda Torvyll, Prinsep of Shaluine, Viyelle’s aunt by blood and Second Mother

Kendra Torvyll, Prinsipella of Shaluine, Viyelle’s sedil and cousin by blood

Vanis Kevyr, Prinsipas of Shaluine, Viyelle’s birth father

Mowbray Syndir, Prinsipella of Shaluine

Tiray Syndir, Prinsipella of Shaluine

Dessa Torvyll, Prinsipella of Shaluine

Bella Torvyll, Prinsipella of Shaluine

Huyis Uskenda, Adaran general in Ukiny

Huryl Kovallyk, Serysta’s High Steward

Domnia Varyl, founder of the Varyl bloodline, West naitan and prelate

Kallandra, North naitan, military lightning thrower

Miray, Kallandra’s bodyguard

Tylle, Adaran guard lieutenant

Elliane, East naitan healer

Fenetta, North naitain farspeaker at Adaran court

Omunda, Chief prelate of Arikon and Adara

Oskina, Rebel leader

Ashbel, Demon

Ataroth, Demon

Untathel, Demon

Xibyth, Demon

Tchyrizel, Demon

Keqwith, Demon

Khoriseth, Demon

Zughralithiss, Demon

CHAPTER ONE

“Halt. Stand and identify yourself and your business.”

Kallista Varyl, Captain Naitan of the Reinine’s Own, just recalled from extended leave, somehow managed to refrain from swearing. The guard at the Mountain Gate leading into Arikon was only doing his duty. He couldn’t know the urgency riding her.

She saluted, snapped off her name and command. “I’ve been ordered to Arikon by the Reinine herself.” She handed over a copy of her orders.

The guard’s eyes widened when he saw the seals and signatures on the paper, but still he blocked her path.

Harnesses jangled as another in Kallista’s party pushed her way forward and saluted. “Courier Viyelle Torvyll, Prinsipella of Shaluine.” The courier began formally, then switched to a familiar, friendly tone as she addressed the guard. “You know me, Daltrey. You were standing duty here when I rode out to fetch the naitan back. This is Captain Varyl. These are her iliasti. I can swear to their identity. I know them all from the last time they were in the city, at court. The captain has urgent business. Do you honestly want to delay them?”

Kallista remembered the prinsipella from last year as well, and not fondly. The young woman had been a useless, annoying, mischief-making blot on Adaran society, and that was before the quarrelsome magic had got hold of her. Still, she seemed to have found something better to do with herself since then, joining the courier corps.

The prinsipella-courier had brought the Reinine’s orders to Kallista along with a warning of the rebellion stirring down on the plains. Viyelle had traveled back to the capital with Kallista’s party, fought through rebel ambushes with them, and at this moment, Kallista was liking the courier more and more.

“I’m sure you can, Prinsipella.” The guard, who had to be nearing the end of his military service, which would make him all of twenty-two, blushed under Viyelle’s attention, but he did not budge. “But rules are rules and with this rebellion on, it’s worth my head if I break them. The captain must be identified by an officer she served under previously.” He signaled to another footguard.

“I’ll go for you,” Viyelle said. “It’s on my way, and I’m mounted. I’ll be faster. My orders were to get the captain here, but she’s not here till she’s reported in, is she?” She turned to Kallista. “I’ll leave your horse in the palace stables so you can find it later.”

“Yes, fine, go.” Kallista waved a hand and the courier clattered off at the best speed she could make. Perhaps she did mean to make amends for last year’s calamities, as she said. Kallista decided to reserve judgment, watch and see how things unfolded. This guard, however…

Kallista glared at him, thinking hot and angry thoughts. He cleared his throat, stiffened to even more rigid attention, and didn’t move.

“Don’t twist yourself into a knot,” Torchay murmured from beside her, trying to calm her temper when it didn’t want to be calmed.

Sergeant Torchay Omvir had been doing that sort of thing for the past ten years, first as her assigned military bodyguard, and for the past year as her ilias—one of her temple-bound mates. He was an exception to the old saying that redheads have fiery tempers. Kallista’s temper was many times hotter than his, but her hair was so dark a brown as to be almost black, while Torchay’s hair was a deep, pure, true dark red that curled wildly when not confined ruthlessly in a military queue as it was now.

“Look around you,” he said. “Have you ever seen this many people at the Mountain Gate? Something’s happened.”

She wanted to let her anger rage, but Torchay’s murmur reached her, despite all. She looked.

Here on the north side of the city, where Arikon backed up into the sharp beginnings of the Shieldback Mountains, the walls didn’t rise so high as those facing the valley to the east and south. The mountain itself gave protection to Arikon. Fewer people lived in the mountain valleys than down in the vast eastern plains, and those who lived in the mountains beyond the Shieldbacks found it easier and quicker to come through the Heldring Gap to the plains and thus to Arikon, though the distance might be greater. In all the times Kallista had been in Adara’s capital city, the Mountain Gate had never seen more than a few dozen individuals seeking admittance, even on the busiest days.

Today, merchants driving carts laden with household goods were lined up behind farmers driving livestock before them, and they stood behind craftsmen bearing the looms or anvils or hammers and saws of their trade, all waiting for access to the city. Old people rested by the side of the road. Children chased each other, playing loud games with best friends just met while their parents tried to keep track of them. Kallista had been vaguely aware of the crowds as this half of their ilian approached the gate, but she hadn’t truly seen them.

Guards searched baggage, and one by one, those wanting into the city filed up to a table set before an army colonel with a single row of red ribbons fluttering fore-and-aft from her shoulders and a male naitan dressed in North magic blue. He looked weary, as if he’d been working magic for hours on end.

The next in line came up to the table and laid her hands flat on the rough wooden top. The naitan covered both her hands with his, and the colonel began asking her questions. A few minutes later, the naitan nodded, the woman gathered up her goods, joined the family waiting near the gate and together, they entered the city.

“Truthsayer?” Kallista spoke her thought aloud, not seeking an answer. No wonder the man looked tired, if he had to verify every person wanting to enter the city. She shivered with a sudden chill. “You’re right, Torchay. Something has happened. Something bad.”

And the rest of their ilian was on the road alone, traveling to the northern edges of Adara and Torchay’s family, away from the rebellion disturbing the eastern plain. Her babies—twin daughters—were so small, only ninety days old. Not even three months yet. How could she have left them? What kind of mother was she, to be here, instead of there, with her children?

“Obed should have gone with them.” Her voice was bitter, angry, quiet. “You should have gone with them. How can they travel safely all the way to Korbin Prinsipality with only one able-bodied fighter? We sent him alone to guard a pregnant woman, a blind man, a healer and two tiny babies.”

She whirled her horse to ride north and find them, keep them safe. The two with her—the best fighters in their ilian—would never leave her.

Torchay threw himself at her reins and missed, landing hard in the lingering puddles on the rocky road. Kallista called for speed and her mount did its best, but there were too many people crowded in the road and she wasn’t—quite—willing to sacrifice someone else’s child to save her own. Obed caught up with her easily, wresting the reins from her hands.

Kallista fought for the reins, for control of her horse. Confused and frightened, the animal reared. Obed caught her around her waist and pulled her onto the saddle in front of him. Kallista’s fear flashed into anger and she turned it on Obed, her fury rising as he accepted her blows without expression, without reaction, simply allowing her to rain them down on him.

“Damn you,” she raged. “Don’t you care about anything?” She wanted to mark him, to cut him open and see if he would bleed. Her beautiful, exotic Southron ilias with his black hair, brown skin and the tattoos of his devotion to the One God written on his face and body was beyond anything in Kallista’s experience. She didn’t know how to deal with him. And just now, that infuriated her.

Like the rest of their ilian, he’d been marked by the One and bound by that godstruck magic into a whole as unlike other iliani as a military troop was from the rabble of a mob. But since her daughters’ birth, Obed had been pulling back, withdrawing into himself until he seemed a stone carving, rather than a man. And she didn’t know why.

His behavior worried her, for more reasons than the personal. It drove cracks through their ilian, because much as she tried to hide her hurt at Obed’s actions, she couldn’t quite, and that made the others angry for her sake.

Torchay pushed his way into the space around the restive horses, limping slightly. Kallista refused the rising guilt, but it seeped inside her anyway. She’d caused that limp. Obed released her into Torchay’s arms and he pulled her from the saddle, holding her tight when she would have turned her anger on him. He wouldn’t let her strike him.

“You don’t want to cause any more of a scene. Not here.” He spoke into her ear, holding her head still with one long-fingered hand planted on the back of her skull. “Think, Kallista. If you ride out of here, you’re more likely to lead the danger to them. You’re the godstruck. You’re the one the rebels will watch, if they’re watching any of us. You don’t know for certain that there is any danger at all, do you?”

Gradually, his words sank in and made sense. She did not want to make anything worse than it already was. She stopped struggling and Torchay loosened his hold. He didn’t let go of her entirely—he knew her too well for that—but he would know she was listening now.

“You have to trust in the plan.” He led her back toward their place near the gate where his well-trained horse waited, calmly cropping grass. Obed followed, leading Kallista’s mount.

“They’re my daughters too, remember?” Torchay said. “Blood or no, Lorynda and Rozite are both mine. Don’t you think I want to be there myself, watching over them, as much as you do? But this was the plan. To draw attention our way, make anyone interested come after us. And for that, we need Obed here.

“If we’re drawing attention to you, I want our best fighters protecting you, and that’s Obed and me. I won’t risk you, too. We fought through rebels more than once on our way here, and more than once, it was Obed who made the difference. Trust the plan. Trust Stone and Fox and Merinda to keep them safe.”

“Fox is blind, and Merinda’s a healer, not a fighter.”

“You know as well as I do that Fox’s blindness doesn’t make any difference in his ability to fight. That extra sense of knowing he has from your magic gives him eyes in the back of his head. You’ve seen it. You know it. And a healer’s exactly what they need right now with Aisse so close to her time. You brought Merinda into the ilian. She’ll watch over the girls and Aisse like they were her own.”

The durissas rites weren’t used much in the cities any more, but in the countryside, in the mountains and plains, they were still fairly common. During a crisis a person could be temporarily made ilias, or two iliani could bind themselves into one, swearing to guard the others—especially the children—as their own.

Merinda had come out from the capital, a cheerful, comfortable tabby cat of a woman, to help with the twins’ births and wait for Aisse’s baby, so she had been present and available when Courier Torvyll had brought word of the emergency. Merinda had accepted Kallista’s offer, taken the bracelet from Kallista’s own arm bound together with the band from Torchay’s ankle, and become part of their ilian just before they’d left on their separate journeys.

Usually a durissas bond lasted only as long as the crisis, though sometimes it became permanent, if a child resulted or the parties agreed. In this instance, Kallista didn’t care much which way it went, as long as Merinda took care of those who needed her. Kallista couldn’t do it, and it was ripping her apart.

At the gate again, Torchay looped an arm around her neck for a rough hug. “They’ll be all right.”

“How do you know?” Kallista couldn’t stop the retort, her fears eating holes in her. “You don’t have any idea how they’re faring.”

“But you do.”

Did she? She should. At the least, she ought to be able to find out. Kallista took a deep breath, fighting for calm. Could she do it?

Turning her back on the city, she faced North and opened herself. There, that was the sound of all the people dammed up before the gate, talking, laughing, complaining. She named it and set it aside, letting it fade from her consciousness. And that was the horses, and those noises belonged to the other animals—cows, chickens, dogs, cats. Kallista closed them from her mind as well.

She shut out the sound of the wind whipping the flags atop the city walls and making the trees whisper to each other. One at a time, she identified and eliminated the sounds falling on her physical ears. With everything that was in her, she listened for more. And she heard nothing.

No hum from the mountains. No whisper from the sun. No joyous song of magic.

She wanted to scream with frustration. Once, she had destroyed a demon with the magic she wielded. Today, she could not destroy a gnat.

Kallista pulled back inside herself and let the physical world back in. Other female naitani gradually lost their magic during pregnancy and gradually got it back after the birth. Kallista’s had vanished all at once, and it had yet to reappear. At least she still had the assurance of the magical links binding her to her iliasti that the magic would return.

She wouldn’t worry—hadn’t worried about the magic’s absence until Courier Torvyll had arrived at their mountain home, where they had retreated for the birth of their children, with news of the rebellion spreading from the plains westward into the mountains, toward Arikon. Now Kallista wanted it back. The sooner her magic returned, the sooner she could help quash the rebellion and go back home.

Needing the reassurance, Kallista reached for the place deep inside her where her magic slept, where the links with her iliasti abided, and touched them with incorporeal fingers. There was Torchay and there, Obed. And—stormwaves of panic rolled through her.

She caught Torchay’s arm to keep from falling. “They’re gone.”

“What?” He put an arm around her, held her up. “Who’s gone?”

“The others. Fox and Stone and Aisse. The links are gone. I can’t find them.” She wrapped her hand in his tunic and held on tight, shaking. “Oh Goddess, they’re gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she snapped, again taking refuge from fear in anger. “The links were there. Now they’re not.”

“Look again.”

She already was, scarcely aware of Obed dismounting, coming to stand close, at guard. She rummaged through that hidden place. Obed, there. Torchay there. Fox…not there. Nor Stone. Nor Aisse. Frantic, she reached, as high and wide and far as she could. And she could not get outside her own skin.

“Oh Goddess, oh Goddess,” she whispered over and over in prayer, having no other words, trusting the One to know what she prayed for.

“Kallista.” Torchay shook her. He caught her face in one hand and turned it up to his. “Captain. Don’t fall apart on us now. We need you. They need you. Don’t assume the worst. Isn’t that what you’ve always told me?”

“Prepare for the worst,” she mumbled through numb lips.

“Prepare, yes. But don’t anticipate trouble before it comes.”

“Yes.” She gathered up all her fear and shoved it into a mental box, sitting on it to get it closed. She stiffened her knees by sheer force of will and made herself stand on her own, away from Torchay’s support. “Yes, you’re right. They are a long way off, after all. A hundred leagues or more. Almost two, if they’ve already reached Sumald.”

Goddess, if only Torchay or Obed could search on their own—but all the magic was hers to control. Without her at the center to power it, the rest had no connection to each other. Kallista took a deep breath, swallowed, blinked her eyes dry. “We’ve never been so far apart, have we? Not since the links formed. And with my magic the way it is…”

“Aye. I’m sure that’s the only problem.” Torchay still watched her with haunted eyes.

Obed took a moment from watching the crowd to look at her. Was that concern in his eyes? Who was it for?

“Are you all right, then?” Torchay called her attention back from its wandering.

“Yes.” She wiped her face. She hated tears, most especially her own, but since the babies, she hadn’t been able to control the stupid leaking. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” He tilted his head toward the gate, a spiral strand of red hair escaping from his queue to slide across one eye.

Kallista followed his direction and saw an officer striding toward them—a general by the layered fringe of red ribbons sprouting from the shoulders of her dun-brown infantry tunic. A few more paces and Kallista recognized General Huyis Uskenda. She had been in command of the garrison where Kallista was serving last year during the beginning of the Tibran invasion.

The Tibran king had sent his boats and warriors—and his cannons—to take Adara from those who lived here. He might have done it, but for the magic that struck Kallista on the city walls of Ukiny the morning the Tibran army invasion very nearly succeeded.

“General.” Kallista drew herself to attention and saluted, relief ringing through her. Uskenda was one of the better commanders in Adara’s army, more concerned with effectiveness than appearance or her own comfort. “Captain Naitan Kallista Varyl reporting for duty. I would like to request a troop escort for my family, General, to—”

“Wouldn’t we all, Captain. You’re not getting it.” The general’s gaze paused on Torchay, acknowledging his presence, then moved on to Obed. “Who’s this?”

“My ilias, Obed im-Shakiri. You may have heard I married after you sent me to the capital last year. There are six of us in all now. We have two babies and our other ilias is pregnant.” Kallista raised her right hand to show the single bracelet from her only female ilias. “They’re traveling alone to—”

“You vouch for him?” Uskenda ignored Kallista’s implied plea. “You and your sergeant I know, but—”

“He’s no rebel.” Kallista risked interrupting the general. “He’s godmarked like the rest of us. Like our other iliasti. They’re carrying out a request from the—”

“We have no troops to spare,” the general snapped the words out, voice hard as iron. “Do not ask again, Captain. Do not even hint at asking.”

Kallista braced to hard attention, staring straight ahead at nothing at all. “No, General, I won’t.”

Uskenda didn’t waste another moment, turning on her heel. Kallista fell in behind her, Obed and Torchay on guard at either side. They marched past the long lines of people waiting their turn with the truthsayer. Their frantic desperation to get behind the safety of the walls and their resentment toward those who seemed to be bypassing the system gathered thick enough to make an almost physical barrier for the small party to push through.

Something had happened. Kallista knew it, but didn’t dare ask what. Not now. And sergeants didn’t question generals about anything, so Torchay couldn’t ask. She slid a glance toward Obed, the civilian. Would he understand what she wanted to know? And if he did, would he ask?

He met her look, flicked his eyes toward the crowd, the truthsayer, the full troop of guards at the gate, then looked back at Kallista. He somehow bowed without moving his head. “General,” he said, his exotic Southron accent stronger than usual, “has something occurred that makes all this security necessary? Why a truthsayer?”