Embercore Book Four

  The Conscript King

  Felix Taylor

  Copyright © 2026 by Felix Taylor

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or scanning without written permission from the author.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art by CREADFECTUS

  felixtaylorbooks.com

  Contents

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  14. Chapter 14

  15. Chapter 15

  16. Chapter 16

  17. Chapter 17

  18. Chapter 18

  19. Chapter 19

  20. Chapter 20

  21. Chapter 21

  22. Chapter 22

  23. Chapter 23

  24. Chapter 24

  25. Chapter 25

  26. Chapter 26

  27. Chapter 27

  28. Chapter 28

  29. Chapter 29

  30. Chapter 30

  31. Chapter 31

  32. Chapter 32

  33. Chapter 33

  34. Chapter 34

  35. Chapter 35

  36. Chapter 36

  37. Chapter 37

  38. Chapter 38

  39. Chapter 39

  40. Chapter 40

  41. Chapter 41

  42. Chapter 42

  43. Chapter 43

  44. Chapter 44

  45. Chapter 45

  46. Chapter 46

  47. Chapter 47

  48. Chapter 48

  49. Chapter 49

  50. Chapter 50

  51. Chapter 51

  52. Chapter 52

  Afterword

  Other Works

  External Sites

  Chapter 1

  Pirin and Gray skimmed above the surface of the ocean as fast as they could. His gnatsnapper’s wingbeats tore up a wake of water behind them, and the wind rushed around Pirin. He guided it in a cone in front of them, forcing a more aerodynamic shape and coaxing out more speed. The mist turned into a parachute of white cloud behind him.

  Pirin squinted. To the left were the distant starlit hills of the Aerdian coats, and to the right—only a few gnatsnapper wingspans away—was the titanwood hull of a Sirdian battleship.

  “Once we’re past this ship, it’s fair game,” he whispered, leaning in close to Gray’s feathery nape. “A straight shot ahead.”

  Plenty of targets, plenty of carnage! Gray’s voice rang out in his mind, uncharacteristically cool and bloodthirsty. You’d best be ready with the Shattered Palm! I want to see some explosions!

  They breezed past the sharp, angular stern of the battleship, then passed the blocky superstructure and its candlelit lattice windows. Pirin pulled up and raced over one of the enormous ballista platforms. The wind in their wake washed across the deck, putting out candles and torches, but the crew—archers, ballistamen, and flak catapult artillerists—looked up and cheered at him.

  Cheered at you? Gray exclaimed. No, no, they cheered for you!

  Pirin rolled his eyes. “So I…misspoke? Misthought?”

  Have some pride!

  “Maybe when we’ve won the battle.”

  They launched around the rising prow of the battleship, and the battle expanded ahead of them. The sea burned. Titanwood ships duelled across the waves in a close melee, launching ballista bolts at each other. Upon impact, the alchemical warheads detonated in an explosive pulse, ripping up chunks of the hull and throwing splinters into the dim night air. Their triangular sails burned, sending columns of smoke high up into the sky, blotting out the moons and stars.

  Gnatsnappers whirled overhead like seagulls, duelling amongst themselves and occasionally making attack runs on the enemy ships. Flak catapults spewed rocks and gravel at them, shredding them into red mist and feathers, and their heavy dive-bombing payloads splashed into the sea, before detonating and throwing up a mountain of flatsam-filled water.

  Pirin could barely tell which ships were Aerdian, let alone which birds were, but he had a job to do.

  Destroy! That’s our job! Gray exclaimed.

  Pirin clenched his teeth, then guided Gray lower again. “Not exactly…”

  They had to clear a way for the Sirdian fleet to advance ashore. If they couldn’t open the delta-gates of Illerioch, their campaign inland would be over before it started. They wouldn't be able to sail upriver. The Aerdian fleet needed to keep them miles offshore, and the Sirdian fleet needed to break through.

  And Pirin was late to the party. After returning to Sirdia from the Mainland, he and Gray had flown south as soon as they could to help lead the campaign. He hadn’t even visited Northvel yet.

  But there was no better time to make this push. No one knew when Aerdian reinforcements would muster, and the Aerdian shoreline defenses were never going to be weaker. If he wanted to use his new army to make an offensive push, it was now or never.

  Pirin tugged Gray’s nape to the left, guiding her around the edge of a cluster of ships. A frigate’s warhead magazine exploded, and Pirin threw out a Winged Fist to the side, pushing the flames and debris away.

  It’s hard to maneuver so close to the ocean! Gray exclaimed.

  “If we go any higher, we’ll be easy pickings for their flak catapults!” He pushed his mask tighter onto his face. His wind-aspect mana form was best for speed and maneuverability, and he could manipulate the wind to keep them from crashing into other ships.

  If we stay low, we’re not going to do any damage!

  “That’s what the Sirdian fleet is for! They’re doing their job, too!” Pirin strained his eyes, trying to see through a cloud of smoke. He coughed and choked on a cloud of sawdust, then used a Winged Fist to clear it all away. “But if the gate bombers don’t get in the air, we’re in trouble. I need to group up with the squadron!”

  Fine! No…destruction, though?

  “When we bust open the delta-gates, you’ll have plenty of destruction.”

  Sirdia’s gate bombers were carried aboard specialized bird carrier ships. The bird carriers wouldn’t have engaged in the melee intentionally, but as the battle progressed, they’d have gotten tied up just the same.

  Now, near the northern end of the fray, a Sirdian fleet carrier called the Fealty floated amidst a desperate skirmish of frigates and destroyers. Aerdian ships encroached, and enemy birds descended from all angles. Ballista bolts and bombs splashed into the water all around it.

  It had a battleship’s hull, but instead of ballistae and a superstructure, it carried a flat, rectangular deck, with titanwood lattices and spars holding it up. Its sails sprouted out the side on horizontal spars, and a single command tower peered above the left side of its flight deck.

  “That’s it,” Pirin said, guiding Gray around a pair of duelling battleships. He centered the Fealty in his vision, and charted a course through the battle. He reached up and tapped the side of his head, where a simple leather headset strapped a windstone over his ear. A carved wooden strand held a smaller receiving windstone in front of his mouth. As the air blew through the stones, they accepted and transmitted voices.

  “Admiral Lirmorton, do you hear me? It’s Pirin.”

  “By the Split, your majesty!” a voice exclaimed from the ear-facing windstone. “When we heard that you’d be joining us, we didn’t believe it!”

  Pirin clenched his jaw as he launched a Winged Fist to deflect a volley of flaming arrows, then pulled up to avoid an unusually accurate repeating crossbow operator. “Apologies for the short notice, admiral. Is the squadron ready for the bombing run?”

  “We have them equipped with gate-busters, but we can’t launch until we clear out the ships around us,” the admiral replied, then shouted an unintelligible order to someone. “Their flak catapults will knock the squadron out of the sky before they can drop a single bomb.”

  “I can help with that,” Pirin said. “Hold on.”

  “You’re sure, my lord? Your Embercore⁠—”

  “Don’t worry about me, Admiral.”

  “If you say so.”

  Pirin was about to manipulate the wind around him so it wouldn’t flow into the stone, and so he couldn’t hear the admiral’s complaints, when a new voice chimed into the channel: “Pirin, it’s Nomad. Do you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, sir,” Pirin replied. Nomad had flown south aboard the Featherflight as well. But the Featherflight, being a small smuggling airship, was no good in a battle like this. Alyus and Brealtod would keep far away from the fighting. Instead, so he could advise Pirin, Nomad had opted to stay aboard the fleet carrier. With his core and mana channels broken, advice was the only thing the man could give Pirin.

  “All pilots in the bombing squadron have windstones linked to yours. Once they’re in the air, they’re in your co
mmand. Remember, Pirin, if you fuel the runes on a ballista bolt’s warhead before it launches, they’ll detonate early. You can cause a lot of damage to the ships around you.”

  “Got it,” Pirin said. “You hear that, Gray? We’re going to wreak some havoc after all.”

  Now that’s what I’m looking for! she exclaimed. Her voice almost came through as a draconic hiss, and it had a catlike quality to it. Switch to the Shattered Palm. I can maneuver from here.

  Pirin pulled off his rune-covered mask and let it hang around his neck—he’d attached a strap to it on the flight down—and cycled pure, unstable mana. He was a Blaze now. It was time to test his techniques against a full-sized ship.

  “That frigate!” he called, pointing at a vessel circling the Fealty. Its ballista were loaded and ready to fire. “It’s our first target. Pull up at the last minute!”

  As you wish!

  As they approached the frigate, Pirin charged a Shattered Palm. He cycled mana quickly and steadily, feeding it subconsciously through the Memory Chain. Without his mask, his mana was guaranteed to destabilize—perfect fuel for the Shattered Palm.

  The Aerdian frigate wasn’t as blocky or rigid as the Dominion warships Pirin had grown most used to seeing. Its hull and bulwarks swooped down at the midship, cleaving close to the surface of the water. A single mast sprouted out the hull’s center, supporting a triangular lateen sail on either side. Ambersteel shields hung on the railings and around the flak catapult turrets, protecting them from arrows.

  Elven archers turned to face Pirin and Gray. As soon as they fired their volley, Gray pulled up. Her wingbeats knocked the arrows and crossbow bolts down into the water. She swooped around the back of the superstructure, then aimed directly for the two main ballistae at the front of the ship. Pirin launched his Shattered Palm, sending a seven-foot tall handprint of blue energy surging through the air.

  The force of the attack alone shattered the ballista and broke its strings, but the mana motes swirled around in the aftermath fell on the rune-inscribed warheads of the bolts and detonated them. The entire upper platform blossomed into fire and smoke, and all the ship’s windows shattered.

  Pirin jumped off Gray’s back and landed on the lower, front ballista platform, then drew his sword.

  It wasn’t a full sword. He’d shattered Nynhar when recruiting the weavelings, and there had been no time to reforge it. Instead, he held the broken six-inch long stub of the hilt and blade.

  It was enough. His core was full of mana, and he needed some place to use it. He activated his full-body fortification technique, the Fracture Mantle, and darted around the lower ballista platform, incapacitating and killing ballista operators.

  Gray circled around the front of the ship, then flew back the opposite direction, keeping low and evading the flak and repeating crossbow bolts. When she was close enough, Pirin jumped off the platform and landed back on her saddle, then delivered a second weaker Shattered Palm to detonate the ballista bolts.

  With its two front turrets out of commission, the frigate would have no choice but to retreat.

  Pirin and Gray continued their attack run, circling around the carrier, destroying the ballista turrets of its enemies before they could attack. They swooped and swerved away from arrows and enemy bird riders. Another frigate’s magazine detonated, a heavy cruiser retreated when Pirin splintered its mainmast with a Shattered Palm, and a pair of light, single-ballista ships were neutralized when Pirin annihilated their main armament.

  He activated his windstone again and shouted, “Admiral, do you hear me?”

  “We hear you, your majesty,” replied Admiral Lirmorton. “Marvelous work with the Aerdian ships. My apologies for doubting you.”

  “Can you launch the squadron now?”

  “We’re sending the first group up to the flight deck now. They’re wind-tuned to you, and they hear you right now.”

  “Wonderful,” Pirin said. “Launch as soon as you can. We’ll make our attack run on the delta-gate as soon as they’re in the air.”

  Chapter 2

  Pirin and Gray circled the Fealty, attacking swarms of enemy birds and knocking them out of the sky with Shattered Palms, or attacking close-range with his sword.

  The fleet carrier below readied its squadron. Twelve gnatsnappers climbed up onto the flight deck, equipped with saddles and a heavy alchemical bomb each. Riders sprinted across the deck, sheltering from falling debris, and leapt into their birds’ saddles.

  But with such a heavy payload, even a run along the seven-hundred-foot flight deck wouldn’t be enough to get them in the air. A rope hooked onto the first bird’s saddle, and a system of pulleys linked it to a set of trebuchet weights hanging at the ship’s prow. The weights dropped from the front of the ship with a leathery groan. The rope tightened, launching the pilot and rider forward with enough speed to give the bird lift.

  Puny mortals! Gray squealed inside Pirin’s mind. That’s what they need to match our strength? I probably could’ve carried three of those bombs!

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Pirin whispered.

  He shut his eyes. He’d have to find a way to deal with that dragon spirit. He didn’t want to lose the old Gray.

  I’m just pointing it out… Gray pouted.

  “Sure you were. Wanna go help them?”

  By now, four of the twelve riders had launched. Pirin pressed the windstone headset up to his ear and allowed air to flow through it again. “Bomb group. This is Pirin. Do you hear me?”

  “We hear you, your majesty,” replied a voice through the headset. Most of the heavy bomber pilots were women; they needed to be as light as possible for their gnatsnappers to hoist the gate-busting bombs.

  “Stay behind me. I’m giving it two more circles around the ship for the rest of the pilots to get in the air, then we’ll aim for the delta-gate.”

  He’d been briefed on the mission objective during his journey south along the Sirdian coast. He’d talked over the plan many times with the marshals and admirals. The Aerdians weren’t expecting such a concentrated attack, and if this didn’t work, they were doomed.

  They had to bust open the delta-gates, opening the way for half of the weaveling army to advance inland along the broad Aerdian rivers. They’d take a branch of the Eldflow, which eventually met with the Senflow and encircled the old elven capital—Vel Aerdeil.

  They’d never have a better chance to take the city. If they were quick, they might just make it. And they just had to hold it long enough for Pirin to make the throne bloom. He’d prove himself to be the rightful king, and hopefully enough of the Aerdian forces would join him to expel the Dominion from their lands.

  As Pirin flew his last two circles around the Fealty, the rest of the squadron formed in the air behind him. Gnatsnappers fluttered in a wedge formation behind him, the two-foot-long bombs now dangling beneath their saddles. They were regular birds, not familiars, and with such a heavy load—rider and bomb—they wouldn’t stay in the air for long. As they joined up, their riders called out through the windstone. Their callsigns were always a variation of “Avalanche.”

  But he couldn’t spend any more time circling. The others would catch up if they could.

  “Veer off,” Pirin said. “We’re beginning the attack run. I’ll keep them off you as best I can.”

  He and Gray dipped to the east, aiming for the distant coast. They took a wide circle, making a maneuver that even the heavily-burdened bombers could match.

  They passed through a column of black smoke, and Pirin switched back to his wind-wielding form to cleave a route through it. The gust of air exposed two enemy birds in the smoke. He and Gray veered off to attack one, and one of the Avalanche squadron pilots drew a recurve bow off her shoulder. She stuck the other bird with an arrow, sending it spiralling down to the ocean below.

  “Get lower!” Pirin instructed. “We can pull up when we approach the gate, but we need to avoid as many of their riders as we can.”

  They swooped down and passed between a pair of duelling battleships. Pirin charted a swerving course across the battlefield, slipping between ships’ hulls and over wreckage. The squadron straightened into a line. Two riders fell to a volley of arrows, and another was incinerated when a frigate’s magazine exploded too close. One more crashed into the burning flotsam of a carrier. At the speed of that impact, the rider couldn’t have lived.