The Shadow Matrix

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  The night was cloudcast, and a little chilly, but Mikhail decided he had never seen a lovelier night. Wearing only a woolen robe intended for indoors, cloakless, he could feel

  the pleasant warmth of Marguerida's body pressed against him. He could almost make out the heavy scent of trees, as he started to urge the horse forward, with the others around him. There was a silence between them, as the sounds of destruction continued.

  They rode for several minutes, and Mikhail had no idea which direction they were going. He was very tired now, and sad as well. The crow was dead. It had saved him for the last time. Depression began to eat away at his earlier elation. Then he felt Marguerida's grip tighten on his flat stomach.

  Mik—there is someone following us.

  Friend or foe?

  I think it is that little woman—Leonora?—and she is very angry. They are not very far behind either.

  Just then Davil spoke. "We are being pursued. It looks as if the old woman managed to save her blasted riders. They would follow her into hell itself. She always was a tough one." There was a kind of grudging admiration in the words.

  "Who is she?" Marguerida asked.

  "The dom's mother, Domna Leonora. She was too old to become a Keeper when the Lord of Hali organized his Tower, too old and already a mother as well. But ambitious nonetheless, they say."

  "We are no match for armed men," Marius complained. There was an undertone of fear in his voice, as if he kept his terror at bay by will alone.

  "No, we aren't," Mikhail agreed. "But she must be mad if she thinks she can ..."

  "Crazy and cunning, Dom Angelo. My father always said it would have been better if she had been a man, not a woman, and he should know, being her younger brother and all." Davil gave a slight shrug in the dimness. "She was a wild girl, and grew into a strange woman, he said. Full of hatred, because my grandfather married her off to Dom Rakhal El Haliene, who was mean and passed his meanness on to his son."

  What should he do? Mikhail felt the exhaustion of the past few hours envelop him. He was too weary and sad for this. He tried to summon up some energy, but felt only his

  own emptiness. He needed rest, and a place to hide himself and Marguerida.

  Go to the Lake, my son.

  The Lake?

  Hali will conceal you.

  The command rang in his mind firm and comforting. He could not imagine how Lake Hali might conceal him, but he did not question the voice in his mind. Instead, Mikhail felt a vast relief that he did not have to make any decision at all for the present.

  Mikhail cleared his still raw throat. "I think it best if we split up. They will have a harder time if they are trying to follow several parties instead of one."

  Davil was looking at Mikhail. "That will be fine for us, but she is looking for you, Angelo."

  "Then we will just have to trust she will not catch us. She will regret it if she does."

  "No doubt." Davil hesitated. "Very well. We will split up—I will take some of us to the north, and Marius can take the others to the south. Which group will you join?"

  "Neither, Davil. Here we part ways forever. I have been honored to have met all of you, but I have another path which I must follow." He spoke with more confidence than he felt.

  Davil looked a little sad, and so did several of the other leroni. But he nodded, accepting the decision. "Fare thee Well, Angelo—or whoever you may be! You are well-named!" Then he flashed a grin in the darkness, his white teeth gleaming, and began to reorganize the leroni into two groups.

  Mikhail kneed the gelding ahead. He had his bearings now, and he could just see the faintest glimmer of the rising sun on the horizon, coloring the clouds a delicate pink. A soft rain started to fall, and as they rode away, the wind rose a bit. The rain began to soak their robes, and he shivered. The pink dawn was all gray now. ,

  Mikhail felt Marguerida's head rest against his back, her fingers laced around his middle. He could feel her healing shadow matrix lapping though him, refreshing and invigorating. The horse was moving at a decent pace, considering the weight of two riders, and he knew he could not force

  the animal to go any faster. He breathed the clean air and waited for the sound of hoofbeats behind him.

  The bloody sun had just edged above the distant horizon when he finally heard them, and he could see the banks of the lake ahead of him, cloaked in rosy mist. It was not far, but he urged the tired horse on, and saw the mist creeping toward him. The gelding gave a grunt, then moved into a laboring canter. The noise of several horses drew nearer and nearer.

  "There they are! Get them!" It was the shrill voice of a woman.

  The gelding stumbled and went down. Mikhail rolled free with Marguerida still clinging to him, then stumbled to his feet as he saw the first of the riders racing toward him. It was one of the identical constructs who had captured them, silent and utterly expressionless.

  Mikhail pulled Marguerida to her feet, and they stood together a moment. Then she pushed herself free, swallowed hard, and gave an eerie vocalization that made his blood run cold. The oncoming horse jerked and reared, dumping its rider on the ground and then dashed away into the few trees that grew near the lake.

  Two more riders appeared, and then they saw Leonora, clutching the pommel of a saddle, riding astride and looking both determined and frightened. She had smuts of ash all over her round face, and her hair was draggled. Her eyes were huge, and her mouth a maw of fury.

  Marguerida repeated her strange call, and the closest horses balked. One threw its rider overhead, and the other reared and sent the man slamming into the high back of the saddle. The horse that Domna Leonora was riding screamed and twisted its head, as if something was hurting "it.

  The woman pulled herself off the horse, dropped to the ground with a soft thump, and flew at them, her hands before her. Mikhail could sense the force of her personality, even at the distance separating them. Something tried to seize his mind, but it was like the buzzing of a gnat.

  Marguerida stiffened beside him. He sensed that they were engaged in a silent battle of wills. It took him an instant to realize that he was watching two women with the Alton Gift of forced rapport come head to head.

  Domna Leonora halted, looking startled. She gave a little huff, and squared her drooping shoulders, then closed her eyes. At the same moment, he saw a slow smile spread across Marguerida's face, and he had the oddest feeling that she was actually enjoying herself. Her golden eyes sparkled in the early morning light.

  "Then Domna Leonora staggered, and went down on her bottom, into a small puddle behind her. Her eyes snapped open and one of the armsmen urged his horse forward. His face was so blank that Mikhail could not guess what he expected to do.

  "Come on—run!"

  Marguerida's voice snapped him out of contemplation, and he felt her hand clasp his. He turned and bent his stiff and tired legs, then started to 'run. She was beside him, panting but keeping pace. Behind them he could hear Leonora screaming with fury.

  The mist of the lake coiled around them, tendrils of moisture like soft fingers, touching his already wet skin as they crossed some invisible boundary. Lake Hali embraced them, drew them into her depths, into silence and stillness, and an utter emptiness.

  He floated, floated. He had come a great distance, so great he could not remember where he began. Nothing existed here. Not even himself—nameless and placeless.

  There was only a vast longing. It stung him, and a mote of something seemed to stir in the nothingness. What was it? He longed for light or darkness—anything but this void. The spark expanded, but it could not divide the endless emptiness.

  A heat passed through him. If he could just hold it, name it. ... Anger? The word was without meaning there. It belonged in another place. He belonged in another place. But where? The heat passed, and he floated in the void, waiting for release, empty within. It was so still. So still. . ..

  Was that a sound? He tried to sense it, but it was gone. A tremor ruffled his empti
ness, a presence penetrated it, piercing him through and through.

  The void released its hold, and fury ripped across it. There was a voice speaking, a deep rumble. He listened

  without hearing, feeling words that lacked meaning cover him, smother him.

  There is nothing here, not even . . . who am I? Alone. No time, no place, no one else . . . alone. But there should be someone, or something, if only . . . remember. Time and space and memory. No meaning.

  Shifting, something is shifted. Movement changes—no, not that. What? Ah, yes. Feeling stuff. A word—gone, all gone. Need to catch . . . Catch? Grab? Seize? Clutch? What are those? What am I?

  Better, now. Stay hot! Burn! Flames! Surge to ... where? What? No where to go. Only here, meaningless here. Drifting beyond meaning. I WANT—

  Spinning in emptiness, no direction, no point, hopeless, loss, FEAR!

  Clenching fear! Hold, hold! Cold fear brings brightness! Slipping away. So hard. Running out of time! What is time? Where is time? Wrongness? Rightness?

  Where am I? Where is . . . Other? Other? What is that? Missing piece . . . of what? Self? Self is Other? Nothing but · sparkles, motes of nothing.

  GIVE IT BACK! Give me back myself!

  Alone, alone, alone. Heat gone, cold gone. Sparkles gone. Calling to sparkles. Silence.

  What's that? The silence stirs. Where? Terrible noise—find terrible noise! Seek! Seize!

  Mikhail felt himself wrenched into air, cold and clammy, and found a hand in his, holding so tight it ground something into his finger. It was painful. Something was squeezing his hand, and something else was hauling at his collar! Someone was trying to kill him!

  He gasped and began to struggle feebly. Then he felt himself pull away, and there was a rock in his hand. He closed his fingers around it and started to lift it, but there was no strength in his arms. He tried to twist free, but he was too weak.

  "Dammit, Mik!" Something gripped his shoulders and shook him hard. His teeth chattered.

  "Ouch! Stop that!" He peered out. There was nothing except a blur at first. Then he saw Marguerida, and everything flooded back. It was an overwhelming rush of memory and emotion, and he retched weakly. Her breath was

  warm against his cheek, and her hand on his shoulder tingled.

  "Hurry!" She dragged him upright, on legs that felt like straws.

  '"Hurry?"

  "Did you leave your brains in the bedamned lake?" She was furious with him, and he could not understand why. There was too much in his head, and all of it was jumbled together.

  "What happened?"

  "Damned if I know, and we don't have time to discuss it now. Get a grip on yourself! I can't carry you, and we have to hurry!"

  "Why?" He knew she must be right, but he still felt dazed.

  Then he heard voices, men speaking quietly, and the soft whicker of horses. They were not in sight, but close enough. Too close. Hadn't they escaped?

  Then the fear came back, so strong it nearly drove him to his knees. Mikhail shivered, trembled, and wanted to weep. She was going to catch him! No! He felt a power rush into his limbs, a combination of terror and will. His hand was trembling beneath the ring. He felt a surge from it, bracing. His feet began to move, his legs following, and then suddenly he was dashing across pink grass, toward a gleaming building that stood at the top of a small rise.

  He heard himself pant, and felt Marguerida beside him. Mikhail knew his legs were moving, but he had a distinct sense that something else supported him. It was very strong, the presence within him, and he moved quickly.

  "There they are! Get them!" It was a woman's voice, sharp and authoritative, and the sound of it nearly made him stumble. He heard Marguerida gasp and cry out.

  Hoofbeats thundered, making the earth beneath his feet tremble, and he reached toward the unseen source of his strength. It seemed to pull him along, wrenching at his heart, dragging him forward even as his terror made him want to hesitate.

  They came to the white building just as the horsemen were within a few strides of reaching them. Mikhail glanced

  quickly behind him, saw the men and the woman with them, a small, middle-aged woman with a fixed expression. Their eyes met for only an instant, but it was enough to make his laboring heart skip a beat. Ashara Alton, the creature he had only glimpsed in the overworld, in the flesh. His throat went dry.

  Mikhail dragged Marguerida's hand against his chest, and pushed her ahead of him. The building appeared to be quite solid, and he could not see any entrance, but he felt the pull of something, leading him to the right. He shoved the small of her back, urging Marguerida forward, then moved to protect her with his body.

  They raced along the round walls, the horses coming

  nearer. His heart pounded against his ribs, and cold sweat

  poured from his face. He could smell the heated flesh of

  the animals. They were not going to make it!*

  Something boiled up in him at that moment, a sense of fury and outrage. Mikhail turned around, and found one horseman almost upon him. There were more, crowding at them. He roared with rage, lifted his hand without thinking, and released all his pent-up anger in a gesture. It seemed to flow out of his heart and into his hand.

  A sheet of brightness rose in front of the riders, and the animals reared and struck at it. He could hear the screams of the horses, and could see men falling from their mounts. There was a smell like lightning, then the stink of singed grass.

  Only two riders remained, the woman and one man. The

  man took one glance, and turned his horse aside. But the

  woman remained, glaring with frustration as the barrier

  flared in the darkness. She made a fist and raised it. "I will

  not let you destroy me!"*

  Mikhail turned quickly, found Marguerida staring at the woman, frozen with terror. Her face was completely white, and her eyes were empty. Mikhail pulled at her arm, and when she did not move, he threw her over his shoulder. She lay there limply.

  Ahead he could feel the veil of the rhu fead only a few steps away. And above him, he sensed the four moons conjoining. How? They had not been here long enough . . . how long had they been immersed in the strange waters of Lake Hali? Not now, he scolded himself! Light as she was,

  Marguerida was a burden, and he forced his feet to move, almost stumbling. He could hear the scream of Ashara behind him, but he concentrated on reaching the portal that promised escape. The veil shimmered, and Mikhail plunged through it.

  34

  Cold struck him like a fist, and icy snow stung his face. The indoor robe Mikhail still wore could not keep out the wind. In the darkness he could just make out Marguerida. She was sitting in a drift a few feet away, looking stunned.

  Mikhail dragged Marguerida to her feet. She stumbled up, then bent over and vomited in the snow. "I hate time travel," she hissed through chattering teeth.

  "Come on. We have to find some shelter."

  "Where?"

  "If we are back where we began, there will be an inn near the ruins of the Tower." Mikhail hoped his assumption was correct, because he did not know what he would do if they had ended up in another time or another place. He just hugged Marguerida against him and started walking, keeping the wind to his back.

  In just a few minutes the soft slippers he was wearing were coated with ice, and he was colder than he had ever been in his life. His breath came in short gasps, and it was all he could do to keep moving. Marguerida pressed against him, silent in her misery, keeping pace by will alone. It was impossible to speak in the cold, but he heard her thoughts.

  Do you know where we are going? Or have any idea where we are?

  You want the truth? No. I am assuming that the storm we dropped into is from the Hellers, which is usual in winter, so keeping our backs to it will keep us heading south toward Thendara.

  We need help Mik. Dressed as we are, we can't go too much farther before we get hypothermia. After all we've been through, we can't
end up freezing to death—we just can't!

  For a moment he felt powerless. She was right, but he*

  had no idea how to summon help when he did not even know where they were. But he did have Varzil's matrix. All he needed to do was use it.

  Before he could put this thought into action, he felt Marguerida's body tense against his, straining as if she were reaching for something.

  What are you doing?

  I know there is someone nearby. I just hope it is a telepath. HELP. HELP!!!

  CHIYA! There was no mistaking Lew Alton's mental voice, even in the howling of the wind. Where are you?

  How should I know—I can't see three feet in front of my face! I am lost in the snow and freezing to death. Marguerida's flare of temper was heartening. But how was anyone going to find them in this swirling whiteness? They had to keep moving until they were rescued, even though all he wanted to do was collapse. Every step was agony now, the cold seemed to consume them. They were so close, but he knew they could easily die before they were found. He ignored the familiar sense of despair, and tried to think of some solution.

  The ring! Mikhail unclenched his hand painfully. He stopped trudging and closed his eyes, focusing on the matrix. After making contact with the starstone, he felt himself shift into it. The wind seemed to vanish, and the cold as well. He felt Marguerida press closer, and sensed her immediate and unquestioning understanding. He knew they were standing in a globe of energy which kept the elements at bay, and shone like a beacon in the night. Now, if he could only sustain it long enough for them to be found.