The Shadow Matrix (82 page)

Mikhail's other side, they raced along the corridor past their rooms as the ceiling began

to collapse behind them, great and small blocks of masonry tumbling down on all

sides.

The door at the end of the corridor was closed, and Mikhail knew it was barred from

the opposite side. Marius pulled at the knob, his face twisting with frustration. Now

they were all crowded together, trying to escape the falling debris. There were screams,

and shouts. A rafter crashed down, catching one of the men on the shoulder.

Marius was white and panicky now, and Mikhail could see him scrabble at the wood of

the door, clawing it with his long fingers. It was futile. The door had been solidly built,

intended to keep people in or out. Marguerida leaned against him, and he could sense

her mind racing. She narrowed her eyes to slits, her expression grim. Then he heard the

bar pulled back.

The door swung back. One of the silent servants stared at them. He did not try to stand

in their way, but just

remained there, looking dull-witted. He glanced at Marguerida. She must have used the

Alton Gift to compel the man to open the door. Then there was the sound of another

explosion, and no more time to think. They raced through the next corridor, and the

man who had opened the door followed behind them.

The huge kitchen was almost deserted. One of the servants rose from the hearth,

looking very puzzled. The whole building was quaking around them.

One of the
leroni
urged the servant ahead with little shooing gestures. They started for

the door of the kitchen. Mikhail knew, from his explorations of the past few days, that

it opened into a small courtyard that backed on the stables. They entered the space, into

a world of flickering orange light and billows of black smoke. Sparks filled the air, and

he could hear the voices of men shouting for water. The smoke made his lungs ache,

and horses neighed frantically. There was another smell, an acrid stench he recognized.

Explosives! That bone-rattling boom a few minutes before must have been the armory

going up.

They rushed into the stable, and everyone pulled open stall doors as they fled down the

length of it. The horses were frantic, but the presence of humans seemed to calm them

a little, and only a few reared dangerously. It was a frightening experience, but he was

strengthened by adrenalin and when he found his big gelding, he grabbed the

hackamore on his muzzle, and dragged the large animal along with him.

Mikhail looked for Marguerida then, and found her on his heels, her face white and

strained. With a quick movement, he pulled himself onto the horse, then leaned down

and helped her up behind him. Then he bent low over the horse's long neck, and the

steed bolted toward the far end of the stable.

Exiting the barn into the yard where they had arrived, they were surrounded by

terrified, hysterical animals, guards in various states of undress, and some of the

leroni.
A few had managed to duplicate Mikhail's feat and were mounted, and he could

see Marius and Betha pulled up behind him. But it was too chaotic for him to count

people, and he kneed his horse through two staring guards, who only jumped aside at

the last second.

Beside him, a horse reared and struck out at one of the men, screaming with panic. He

pulled the gelding aside, cursing the clumsiness of the hackamore, and risked a glance

over his shoulder. Marguerida was clinging to him, holding him tightly around the

waist, her huge eyes reflecting the orange lights of flames. What remained of the top

floor of the Tower blew at that moment, releasing the energy remaining in the matrix

screens in a blast that shook the earth and nearly knocked them both off the animal.

The shock wave sucked the air from their lungs, and then it struck the second tower.

There was a great thunder of falling stonework, and the ground trembled beneath the

horse. Mikhail's only thought was to escape while they could. He headed toward the

high wall that surrounded the keep, aware of the
leroni
around him, but so focused on

the task of keeping his horse steady that he was not certain everyone had escaped.

Several figures ran toward him, and he caught the flash of swords in the ruddy glow of

the fire. He saw the slender face of
Dom
Padriac among them, his features twisted with

rage. He ran straight at Mikhail's horse, clearly intending to skewer the animal, and

Mikhail barely managed to pull the horse aside before he did.

Dom
Padriac turned gracefully, and Mikhail yanked at the horse's mouth, trying to

escape the sweep of the sword. He felt the tip of it whisper past his soft slippers, and

wished he were not weaponless. With two riders, the gelding lacked the power to move

quickly, and he knew that the unmounted man actually had a small advantage.

Davil seemed to appear from nowhere and charged toward their attacker. He lifted

something oblong and brought it down on
Dom
Padriac's skull, a glancing blow.

Mikhail saw it was a rolling pin, from the kitchen. How ignominious, he thought,

elated.

Dom
Padriac staggered, and his knees buckled slightly. Then he shook his head,

regripped his sword more firmly, and headed toward Mikhail again, shouting

something as he did. In the roar of the fire, and the screaming of the animals, his words

were lost.

There was a rush of wind past Mikhail's head, and some-

thing dark flew into
Dom
Padriac's face. In the flare of the fire, Mikhail saw the sea

crow dig its talons into the proud face, then pierce an eye with its sharp beak.
Dom

Padriac's words turned to incoherent shrieks, and he clawed at the crow with his free

hand, then brought his sword up in a sweep of metal. It caught the great sea crow

across the rise of its wings, and even in the poor light, Mikhail could see a line of

blood appear on the black feathers.

The crow fluttered, struggling. He heard a rough caw, and saw the great talons sink

into the throat of
Dom
Padriac El Haliene, piercing the flesh. Blood spurted out,

gushing over the dying bird. For a moment,
Dom
Padriac remained standing. His hand

closed around the crow and pulled it free, dropping it onto the now blood-slicked

stones at his feet. He stared at Mikhail and Marguerida from his remaining eye,

gurgled, and fell headlong beside the dead bird.

Mikhail felt heartsick at the loss of his avian friend. He forced himself to pay attention

to the men milling nearby, to the
leroni
who were grouping themselves around him,

like some honor guard. He turned the gelding toward the gate again, and saw the

guards hesitate at the sight of their dead liege.

Then there was another rumble of collapsing masonry, and the fire seemed to enlarge

and consume the remaining floors. One man, more clearheaded than the rest, turned to

his fellows and said, "Let's get out of this accursed place. Open the gates!"

"But, Raol," another protested.

"The
dom
is dead—we are finished here! Do you want to die, Fredrik?"

Several of the men did not wait to hear his answer, but ran to the huge gate and began

to slip back the great wooden bar. They pulled the gate back with ropes, and pushed

through it without a backward glance. Mikhail breathed a lungful of smoky air, and

then kneed the gelding. He coughed a little as he went beneath the arch of the gate, and

into the flickering darkness.

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.