Chapter 65: 65. Battle in the South

Once the pieces were set in place, Mark took his throne ship south. Venjimin had provided a map of the barbarian federation camp and the temple.

After scouting out the battle or potentially what was left of it, Mark planned to head to the temple and loot whatever they could find.

With him, he took several mercenaries, a couple of Venjimin’s students, whom the old priest had briefed on where to find everything of value in the temple and Callum.

Mark had been surprised to learn that Henric had taken Callum as his apprentice, and since he didn’t want to remove the Arms-Master from the fort while he was away, he figured that taking Callum on some missions would be the second-best option. It might also prove to be a good experience for the budding Arms-Master.

The distance between Fort Winterclaw and the federation camp to the south must have been a couple of hundred miles, but Mark could cover it in hours with the throne ship's help.

After a relatively short flight, they were cutting through the clouds, and Mark spotted the endless rows of tents below. Their fortifications weren’t like their fort's, with high, spiked palisades; instead, they had a few lines of spiked blockades set at different angles. These defenses were not as complete or sophisticated, but the camp stretched on for miles and must have housed tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of people.

Mark’s eyes widened as he spotted the site of the battles. Flames burned ashen trees, and countless corpses littered the snow. From the looks of it, the two armies had met multiple times and fought across an expansive flat snow separating the two camps.

Gliding over it, he tried to estimate the two armies sizes, but it was hard to make any educated guesses.

Thunder snapped across the sky, brightening it with a blinding flash.

“Shit!” Mark exclaimed as the throne ship rocked violently, stealing his attention from the battlefield.

His jaw slackened as his eyes caught the camera feeds from behind the vessel. There were two of them—throne ships. Their initial bombardment had missed, and they were charging for a second barrage.

Where the hell did those two come from?

He didn’t have time to continue scanning the battlefield, but he got the impression from the arrival of throne ships that it was more complicated than he had first thought.

In a desperate attempt to remove himself from danger, Mark was forced to pull on his controls, sending his ship spinning out of the crosshairs as two more bolts of lightning skidded past his ship, sending it rocking and the lights flickering out.

The blasts hadn’t been direct, but even their indirect power had managed to drain much of the ship’s mage core, sending it hurling toward the ground.

With a furious roar, Mark called on his own energy, sending his eyes sparking with blue electricity as he flooded power back into the throne ship. Jolting, the ship lurched back toward the sky, and the lights flickered back on.

The two ships that had attacked him remained following but had eased off, assuming their work was done, and Mark drove his ship into a sharp-angled turn to confront them.

His enemies had armies here, and facing them by himself wasn’t a good idea. However, the ships that had engaged him had fired twice, and Mark knew that would weigh on their energy reserves. He saw two vulnerable assets in his crosshairs and couldn’t ignore the opportunity.

However, the ships also seemed to realize their predicament and swerved to change direction and take flight, forcing Mark to take chase.

Unlike Mark, the Imperators piloting these ships were undoubtedly veterans, and when they realized he was chasing them, they broke formation and turned in opposite directions.

“Damn it!” Mark hissed as he was forced to pick a target to follow, turning after the throne ship to his left.

Thanks to all the power he had flooded into it, his ship had more energy, but there was a limit to what he could provide, and he needed to make smart decisions if he wanted to catch it.

Taking advantage of the power difference. Mark pushed his speed to close the gap between them. Firing now would be too reckless; one miss might consume enough energy to miss his opportunity.

Come on, you bastard.

The ship zigzagged across the snowy landscape, making it impossible for Mark to lock onto a good shot.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

His eyes lit up again as he funneled more energy into his ship, and pushed its speed to the limit; closing the distance between them in seconds and ramming into the ship’s side, sending it twirling toward the ground.

Mark didn’t wait. He knew how strong throne ships were and fired at the out-of-control vessel. One lightning blast wouldn’t destroy it, but it would disable the ship’s mage heart until he could recover the ship.

The imperator who piloted the crashing throne ship pulled it up into a glide only a couple of yards from the ground, but the thunderous clap of lightning Mark shot at it sparked across the ship’s metal hull, sending it lifelessly skidding toward the ground, and skipping across the snowy landscape.

“Gotcha,” Mark murmured and pulled his ship up to slow it, circling once before landing beside the crashed ship as it came to a grinding halt.

Like his own ship during the siege of Fort Winterclaw, Mark was fairly certain that the Imperator wouldn’t even be able to open the hatch of his own ship after eating the blast Mark had landed.

Landed beside the hostile throne ship, Mark bounced up from his seat, charged straight across to the hatch, and slammed the button.

“Orders, Imperator?” Callum said, unbuckling and following him with a determined focus in his eyes.

“What is this madness?” One of the mercenaries shouted. “Are we enemies of the Imperium now?”

“Shut up,” Mark hissed as he stepped outside.

"You 'eard him," one of Venjimin's feral's cackled. "Shut ye mouth, Imperial."

“Remain inside,” Callum turned and pointed at the mercenaries with a bent scowl before following Mark outside. “And wait for orders!”

Stepping out into the snow, Mark looked around. He knew they had little time but couldn’t turn down such a valuable prize. If the other throne ship returned to wherever it had come from, there was a possibility more throne ships might come, especially if these ships were part of an army engaging the wargs, which could explain why the barbarians hadn’t been overrun by the wargs yet.

“Imperator,” Callum said, trailing behind. “Do you have orders for me?”

“Keep an eye out, and warn me if you see anything.”

“Will do,’ Callum nodded and drew his sword.

I wonder if this will work…

Mark walked up to the disabled throne ship, placed his hands against it, and channeled his energy through it.

The moment his electronic energy connected them, he felt the lightning god enter his subconscious. It was guiding him, helping him use his power to connect to the ship’s mage heart.

Mark’s eyes lit up again, and the throne ship’s hatch began to grind open.

“If worked,” he gasped, letting go of the ship and raising–

A crackling lightning bolt shot out, slamming against his chest and flinging him dozens of meters back through the snow.

"Imperator!" Callum shouted.

Spattering blood, Mark dizzily shook his head and tried to make sense of the spinning world around him.

“Prepare to feel the law of the Imperium, heretic,” growled the Imperator as he marched out from the downed throne ship and across the snow toward Mark with a ball of lightning hovering above his palm. “With the edict of law passed down to me as an Imperator of the Imperium, I pass judgment on you, Heretic Atlas. Now die!”

Lightning shot out, electrifying Mark’s body and sending it into violent convulsions, melting the snow around him.

“That sucked,” Mark groaned as the electrifying power receded from him.

“What?” The Imperator gasped. “How are you…” he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

Pushing himself up, Mark rose into a seated position just in time to eat another lightning bolt that shook his body and sent blood trailing from his nose. The pain was excruciating but not deadly, to his surprise, and Mark looked down at his trembling hands as energy washed over them.

The Imperator’s expression twisted into one of pure fear as Mark raised his hands, and with a crackling blast, lightning flashed between them in an instant, shooting the man backward, instantly stiffening his body and blackening his flesh.

The God of Lightning… he’s made me resistant to it, hasn’t he?

Climbing to his feet, Mark felt the chill bite through his skin as his charred clothing fell away.

“Im-Imperator,” Callum stammered, pointing at Mark and looking away. “Your clothing—it’s ah–”

Mark ignored him and walked to the corpse.

The Imperator’s clothing was equally destroyed, but the suit was intact. He could feel the desire to consume the mage heart within the suit. There was a thumping deep within him that told him he would become stronger if he did. But couldn’t. He had to defy his patron god for now. Without the suit, they had no way to recover the ship, and they couldn’t just leave it.

Mark could consume the ship's mage heart as well if he wanted to. But another ship to help connect his fledgling nation was too much temptation to pass up.

“Acolyte Callum.”

“Yes, Imperator,” Callum swallowed.

“Dress yourself in the suit and leave your clothing for me.”

“Sir?”

“Do as I command!”

Callum flinched and immediately began undressing, passing Mark his clothes as he made his way to the Imperator's corpse and began putting the suit on.

“You’re going to have to pilot the ship back to Fort Winterclaw,” Mark said as he pulled the clothing on. “Think you can handle that?”

“Sure... but I have no idea how to fly one of these things. Is that wise?”

“Don’t worry. It comes naturally once you have the suit on. Just go with your instincts and follow me.”

“Yes, sir,” Callum nodded as he buttoned up. "I'll try."

“Alright, that'll do. Take your ship, Acolyte. We’re going home," Mark said, sending a jolt of energy into the downed ship before turning back to his own. "That should be enough power to get us some distance away from here. We'll find somewhere safe and bring them down to recover."

"Yes, sir," Callum saluted and entered the throne ship.

Pulling his own ship up into the sky, Mark watched Callum’s shaky takeoff, lurching back and forth a couple of times and taking out a row of trees.

He couldn’t believe their luck. But it also troubled him. If these Imperators had been part of an army, then not only did the Imperium know about him and his heresy, but he had now proven himself as a real threat to them.

This isn’t good. We’re going to have to move fast.

He couldn’t let them beat the wargs, Mark realized. Even if he was resistant to their lightning, there were limits to it, and his people weren’t.

Ultimately, there could be no mistake. The Imperium was a far greater threat than the wargs, and Mark realized that he might have just royally screwed up by confronting them.

We're not ready for this, are we?