Iscladon Breaking (Book One in the Cerios Chronicles)

Chapter 7-Battle

Chapter 7

Battle

Slikver continued rolling his eyes at the warlord's dramatics.

Markus looked over at Slikver, grinning, "Shall we, my boy."

Slikver smirked, "Only if you think you can keep up, old man."

Markus just shook his head, "We'll play your games, Roark." He called.

"Excellent," he crowed, "let us begin, three rounds, our first will come through the east door, second through the west; your last will be me, as always."

The crew turned to the east door, bracing themselves with their weapons, Slikver caught a glimpse of Karys, his hands surrounded in sharp black rock, forming claws.

The door, almost nine feet high, slowly opened, controlled by a chain and pulley system from those above it.

As the door opened, they saw only darkness for a moment, then a flash of flame lit the corridor for a moment. Then another, closer, and another, closer still.

When the fire flashes reached the door, they finally pulled out in the light, to reveal their enemy.

Slikver stared in mild shock, not at all expecting what was before them.

It was a weasel, a plain, black and red furred weasel.

Slikver mouthed soundlessly for a moment, then simply stared over at Markus, silently asking the question.

Markus shrugged, looking just as bewildered as he did.

The weasel blinked around, looking almost nervous, then hiccupped, blowing out a spurt of flame, causing the crew to flinch.

"Mort," Roark called, drawing the weasel's attention to himself, he pointed at the crew, "attack."

That was apparently all the cue the weasel needed, because it jumped, clearing the twenty feet to them with little effort, landing on Brink's arm and biting hard.

Brink shrieked, flailing, and the crew began milling in confusion, Slikver caught a glimpse of the rock around the weasel turning cherry red.

Slikver ran over to Brink, grasping the weasel by its tail and pulling, yanking hard until, eventually, the weasel came off and went flying. As it reached the arc, it spread its legs and exposed a fleshy flap, catching the wind and allowing it to glide. It soon landed on Mereos, on his back, where it again sank in its teeth.

As Slikver examined the wound on Brink, he saw small amounts of black blood dripping from it, and Brink stood uneasily, swaying slightly, indicating a loss of blood. Slikver tried to shoot the weasel with his gun, but found it was too fast.

Mereos had dislodged the weasel, and instead of landing on someone, it now stood square in the middle of the arena, shooting flames from it's jaws in quick spurts. Slikver dived over one of the crumbling walls, landing on the other side, just as the flames hit.

He found Markus on the other side, crouching down alongside him.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Slikver cried, "We're being attacked by a flying, flaming, vampire weasel!"

Markus shrugged, "You call that strange, I call it Thursday."

Slikver made a gesture as if strangling someone, "Keep it up, if we run across a giant electric owl, you're the first to be fed to it."

Markus gave him a strange look, "The only electric owl I know of doesn't eat meat."

Slikver groaned, "Never mind, just help me beat the weasel."