Page 27 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw
Then another.
Bullets pelt Lowell’s chest, his body shaking back and forth upon each impact. I’m frozen in terror watching the onslaught, the bullets that miss kicking up sand and obscuring sight.
When the firing ceases for a beat, pieces of metal are littered about the ground, the bullets nearly intact. Not a single one penetrates Lowell’s thick scales.
Lowell bellows a hardy laugh. “Bet they’ve never encountered a Lizardfolk, huh?” he taunts, wiping the gunpowder from his chest.
I exhale a sigh of relief — not only that he wasn’t hurt, but that they didn’t aim atme.I wouldn’t have been able to sponge the hits with nearly the same amount of grace.
I shake myself.
What the hell am I doing worrying about him?I think while frowning.I should only be worried about myself.
I sway my sights over the left side of the pass with a steadying breath. “Why the hell would there be bandits here? We are miles away from Nilsan,” I ask.
Lowell backs up closer to me, his arms spread, protectively. “I’m starting to think they’re not bandits… those bullets are much higher-grade than what you can buy on the market,” he replies. “They’re some sort of well-connected wanted criminals, is my guess.”
“Don’t you criminals have some kind of code? Can’t they just let us go?” I huff, sweat sliding down my temple. My hands are cold and clammy, my bow nearly slipping out of my grip.
Lowell grimaces. “Nah. They’ll be after my bounty. But lucky for us, Lizardfolk-piercing bullets are heavier and require a closerrange, so they’ll have to come to us if they want to do any damage.”Although it’s fleeting, I see a look of hunger cross his eyes. “Can’t say I’m complaining about that.”
He wants to eat them.I shudder.
Swiveling my bow on the seat, I spot another criminal who is strangely far away from the two I saw previously. This one is holding something round in their hands, rather than a firearm. The objects almost look like apples, large round globes with a stem at the top.
They’re boiling flasks.
My crosshairs set directly across the criminal’s face, his eyes on mine as though he knew I was watching him. He lifts one of the globes, the glass glinting in the light. The liquid appears to be a dark-brown sludge, thick and gelatinous. It must be some sort of explosive.
The criminal winds his arm like a pitcher, preparing to launch the liquid directly at me. From his altitude, it’d be hard to miss, especially with an explosive’s area-of-effect.
I have to do something.
Panic washes over me like an ocean wave, a cold grip squeezing my chest. My finger teases the trigger, senses heightened as I tune in to the speed and direction of the wind. I only have one shot before he throws the globes, and I have to take it now.
“One on the left. I’ve got him in my sights. I’m firing in three,” I tell Lowell, masking my fear with an overly stern tone.
Lowering his hands and hunching his body, Lowell nods. “The two on the right are coming down the bottom of the pass. Take the shot. I’ll be ready for the others.”
I draw a breath between my lips, my heart rate frantic.
I can’t do this.
I’m not ready.
I’m—
Before the criminal releases the globes from his hand, Ipull the trigger. A bolt releases from my bow, planting firmly in the criminal’s chest. Boiling flasks tumble from his hands as he slumps forward, glass bouncing off the crags along the side of the pass. One breaks open on impact, the liquid spreading with a sizzle and pop. Bubbles form as the goop seeps into the ground with a hiss.
“What the fuck is that?” Lowell shouts, wrinkling his nose as the stench of decay permeates the air.
I pinch my nose, shaking my head in confusion. “I don’t know. Chemical bombs?”
A few of the globes remain intact, but my curiosity is subverted by the sound of boots thundering down metal steps.
“Shit, there’s way more than two,” I hear Lowell say. “Get behind the sandcycle.”
What looks like five criminals emerge from the makeshift scaffolding, each one of them armed with either a handheld weapon or a rifle.
