Zotikas: Episode 1: Clash of Heirs Read Online Free Page B

a single step on the way down. Kieler kept his momentum and swung
completely over the rail to the next flight of stairs. That man didn’t follow
and Kieler kept up his headlong descent to the bottom.
    By the time he reached the corridor he
could hear footfalls from every direction getting close fast.
    A guard popped out several yards in front
of him as Kieler reached the doorway to the wine tasting room. The man’s maggun
was already spun up and as he leveled and shot, Kieler dove out of the
corridor, accidentally tackling one of the wine tables. Fumbling for footing,
he half crawled, half lurched to the storage room door, knocking over two more
tables on the way. He found his footing just in time to crash through the
storage room door.
    Behind him, a guard fired. The bolt missed
Kieler but several wine bottles exploded in front of him. Kieler stepped full
speed into the liquid. As he slipped, he twisted.
    His heightened awareness caused time to
slow, and he had the prescience to wonder as a leveled blade passed inches
above his falling face. He gawked at the inconceivable, fierce beauty of the woman
he was about to collide with. Her bold, chiseled features were outlined by a
wild halo of crimson hair. To further add to the incongruous vision, Kieler saw
she wore nothing but a gossamer nightgown reaching only to mid-thigh.
    Out of control, Kieler landed hard on his
left shoulder and slid into her legs. But somehow, in a feat of dexterity he
would always remember, she leapt, flipped her sword over, and stabbed downward
as she too fell. Whether she had aimed for his heart and missed, or aimed with
an intentional, instinctive sadism, she pierced the shoulder he had just
slammed to the floor.
    The blazing pain was oddly incidental.
    Escape.
    Escape was his only focus. He spun on the
floor and pushed off the far wine rack, propelling himself toward the thankfully
still open hatch. Wine bottles cascaded down from the shaken rack, bombarding
the deadly angel. The only thought he spared for her was: She must not
follow me down.
    Head first into the hole he clutched for
the ladder rungs. He caught the second one down—with his left elbow, wrenching
the now bleeding shoulder. Despite his focus, his vision blurred with pain. He
lurched back up and grabbed the hatch, slamming it closed. The heavy tile
sounded like a thunderbolt itself as it smashed down. But that wouldn’t be
enough. The woman had to know about this entrance, didn’t she?
    She would unlatch it and he would be
followed. From a leg sheath he pulled a four-inch blade and jammed it into the
latching mechanism, essentially double latching it so that it could not be
opened from above.
    He slid down the ladder, the pain now
fierce. At the bottom he had enough presence of mind to grab up his mask and
cloak. Then he ran.
    He sprinted down the under-garden
passageway. He prayed that as they organized, no one but the woman would know
of the secret passage. And she would have to get word to the guards outside. He
should not find guards welcoming him at the statue entrance.
     It made sense. Probably only the
ruling family members knew of the tunnel’s existence.
    He could hear nothing in the corridor but
his own footfalls and heavy breathing. The abrupt silence was strange after
such violence. He held his left arm with his right. His shoulder burned.
    At the other end he climbed quickly into
the pedestal of the statue and slowly released the catch. Peering through the
crack he saw guards running toward the residence. So far, they must have
figured he was still trapped inside the keep. When clear, he swung open the
door and crawled quickly out. He shut the pedestal door and ducked into cover
beside the bushes.
    More lights were on at the citadel and
sirens blared. He clung to the shadows, crawling toward the trees. It was but a
few feet later that glaring arc-lights began blazing to life all over the
garden and his concealing shadows began to vanish.
    He felt exposed, but the