Page 26 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw
The Sandpit shakes its tail with a loud rattle as Lowell gently guides it back toward his palm instead of up the sleeve of his jacket, where it seems to be adamant to reach. “I’ll go put them somewhere safe. Hang tight.”
Warmth softens my heart at how gently Lowell speaks while holding the snake. His face turns giddy and his eyes fill with amazement eachtime the Sandpit nudges his jacket or kisses his bicep.
He really loves these animals, doesn’t he?
Lowell strides past me to place the snake carefully into the sand. It darts off in the opposite direction, and for a moment, I see a dusting of ease in Lowell’s otherwise-stiff posture. His hands are clasped together in admiration, tail swaying against the ground.
It would be a sweet sight in any other scenario.
Clapping his hands together to remove remnants of sand, he returns to where the detonator was dropped. Picking it up, he points to my ears without a word.
I oblige, the spell of the previous moment breaking as seriousness fills its place — the gravity of what we are about to do, about whatI’mnow a part of. Choking down my fear, I scrunch my face reflexively, bracing for impact.
Lowell counts down with his fingers again.
My body tenses when he reaches one.
He presses the button.
The rocks and metal structures that once held together the Orageist Pass blow apart in a spectacular display of dust and debris. Despite the ear-covers, the initial sound makes me wince. A ring of aftershock sends me stumbling backward, sand pelting my face.
Pebbles fall from the sky for a full minute afterward, both of us standing in awe. A lightness fills my chest, a tingling buzz dancing down my spine to the base of my tailbone. The feeling is not unfamiliar, but I can’t pin it down.
Despite everything… I feelgood.
I pull off my hearing protection once the demolition appears to have slowed, hopping on the back seat of the sandcycle. As electrified as I feel right now, gawking will only eat up the few hours of daylight we have left. I don’t think I can take another night alone with Lowell. For many reasons.
Ignoring my haste, Lowell remains completely still. He watches the dust as it settles beneath the pass.
“I think we got it all,” I say, trying to draw Lowell’s attention from the swirling fog of dirt.
His head snaps to a column at the right of the pass, his brow furrowing in concentration.
“What are—” I begin, but Lowell holds up his hand to halt me.
“Shut up.” His words are soft-yet-alarming. “I hear voices.”
I reposition my crossbow from the sling, loading a standard bolt.
Lowell’s scales twitch as he locks onto sound, eyes scanning the clearing pass. From where I sit, I hear nothing other than the sound of rubble crunching beneath his feet.
“Are you sure you heard something? Lizardfolk aren’t exactly known for their hearing,” I whisper-yell, peering through my scope. The metal scaffolding appears vacant, the rusted structure a strong gust away from complete collapse.
A loud bang rings out from the top of the pass. Lowell grunts, dipping backward in recoil.
Craning his neck to look at me, he bares his teeth in a growl. “Get down!” he yells, widening his stance to cover more space. I do as I’m told, sliding off the sandcycle and sinking to the ground. Propping my crossbow on the seat, I sweep my scope over anything that moves. With my heart thundering in my chest, I clumsily turn the lens of my sights to focus.
I spot two figures in the reticle near the top, frantically loading weapons that I can’t make out.
“Two on your right,” I call, my voice wavering. It’s been ages since I’ve seen combat, and even then, it was only for military training. My bow is used mainly for utility and sport, and rarely ever to take a life. I’d be more nervous about my skills if I weren’t so consumed with fear.
When another loud bang echoes through the canyon, I finally realizewhat the sound is.
A gunshot.
The bang echoes again.
Another.
