Colt wasn’t convinced. “Let’s ride east along the river another hour,” he said. “I want to make sure.” Dune buggies. A balloon. An airship. Wanderers didn’t carry equipment like that.
“Whatever you say.”
The squad took a moment to drink from their canteens or relieve themselves while Colt made another pass with the small telescope. Then he took the lead, and they rode on.
As they neared the crossing where the slopes gentled and the river ran shallow, the sun beat down from nearly straight overhead. Colt held up a hand and pulled back on his reins. The patrol stopped.
At first, it looked like a weather front rolling across the basin from the south. Colt squinted at the roiling dust cloud, or dirt devil as they called it, trying to read its pattern and direction.
“We don’t want to be caught in that,” said a trooper already covered in grit from hours in the desert.
Colt adjusted his hat, studying the strange disturbance on the horizon. His intuition screamed. His uneasiness skyrocketed. That was no cloud, no sand twister. It was dust—one long wall of it—rising from thousands of boots and wheels grinding north toward the river. The desert floor itself seemed to be moving. Lines of men and vehicles stretched across the basin so far that the edges blurred into heat shimmer.
Even from a few kilometers away, Colt heard the faint, steady murmur riding the wind. Engines. Metal. Horses. Thousands of feet. The sound of an army on the move. His breath caught in his throat, and he thrust the spyglass to his eye, sweeping it from right to left. He never found the end of them.
“What is it?” Sergeant Slater asked, concern in his gruff voice. “I didn’t think any herds that size could survive out there.”
“It’s not a herd.” The words fell from Colt’s mouth in disbelief. “It’s … an invasion force.”
“Are you glitchin’?” Slater bellowed, his eyes rounding to double their normal size. He pushed his horse nearer and reached for Colt’s brass telescope.
Colt relinquished it and lifted his gaze to the cluster of balloons floating overhead like faded paper lanterns. Between the desert-hued balloons and the countless ground units hung fat charcoal dirigibles, like whales swimming through the sky. The sun glinted off something protruding from the nearest airship. A cannon?
“Void take us, Irons!” Slater exclaimed. It was the first time Colt had detected even a hint of fear in Rafe Slater’s voice. “They’re countless! They’ve consumed the desert like an army of ants. And they’re headed this way. What do we do?”
Colt took back his spyglass, meeting Slater’s eyes with resolve. For a moment, their hands touched as they both gripped the brass telescope. “We follow our training. We keep our heads. I want a closer look at their emblem, and then we race for Fort Desperado. They haven’t seen us, so we’re safe.”For now,he supposed.
The horses jumped, whinnied, and pawed the sand while their nervous riders speculated in hushed, worried voices. Colt zeroed in on a flag clinging to the broad side of a balloon. Ochre with a black step pyramid silhouetted against a green sun. Lowering the angle, he tried to get a fix on the vehicles and soldiers, but the dust cloud they created obscured details. Light, wide-tired buggies—jeep-types. Dirt bikes. Some larger trucks with artillery pieces rolling behind. Horses. Foot soldiers. Disciplined in neat rows stretching into oblivion. And they’d start crossing the border within the hour.
Realization struck with brutal clarity. The Republic’s entire military—save a few small posts like Fort Desperado—was in Verdancia. There was no one to defend against this vast force.
He collapsed the spyglass, jammed it into its holder, and turned his Appaloosa half-Arab around. “Let’s go.” He took off at a gallop, daring the patrol to keep pace.
Slater and the squad rushed about the yard telling everyone what they’d seen, while Colt called Marcus and Andrew into his office. He hastily scrawled words on official military stationery.
“You two are leaving with Sergeant Slater in about ten minutes,” he said.
“What?” Marcus’s face twisted with annoyed confusion. “Youcan’t—”
“Watch your tone, Crane, or I’ll write you up for insubordination.” He folded the page, shoved it into an envelope, and thrust it into Marcus’s hand. “Ride immediately to the mine and give the supervisor this. It’s a military injunction to commandeer a motor vehicle. The two of you and Slater will take turns driving nonstop until you reach the capital and report to President Irons. I don’t care what time of day or night you arrive.”
“But why?” Marcus asked. Andrew looked too terrified to say a word.
Colt ripped off his gloves and yanked off a signet ring. He handed it to Marcus. “If anyone tries to stop you—and they will—show them this. It’ll get you through to the president.”
“Colt?” A look of concern replaced Marcus’s irritation. “What’s so urgent?”
The captain met his gaze. “I guess the Anáhuac didn’t all die in that plague—and they don’t just use spears and bows. I can’t say for sure who they are, but a massive army is crossing the border a few hours’ ride from here.Massive. I need the two of you to go with Sergeant Slater to give him credibility. He witnessed it with me. Make them listen, or all is lost. My father must act swiftly. Everything is riding on you, Marcus.”
His brows shot up. “Me? No one will listen to me, or did you forget? I’m the disgraced General Crane’s son and not to be trusted.”
“And I’m nobody,” Andrew squeaked.
“Tell them to send scouts, balloons, whatever,” Colt said. “They can waste all the time they want verifying it, but the three of you need to leave now.”
“I don’t have a horse,” Andrew mumbled, his head lowered.
“Take mine. He’s the fastest I’ve ever ridden,” Colt said.