Sorcery & Subterfuge

By Vanessa Finaughty

A magical sceptre that holds the power of the gods, an invisible prince, an elf with ogre genes and the ability to bend others’ minds to his will, a peasant girl turned queen, a tortured phoenix in human form, mystical fogs, dwarf pirates and majestic ryokin – sentient winged sabretooth cats with magic flowing through their veins...

If sorcery and subterfuge get you through the night, this short story anthology is sure to spin you into a whirlwind adventure to realms beyond the imagination. Fans of the sci-fi fantasy series, Legends of Origin, will be pleased to note the inclusion of two stories featuring the series’ ryokin, along with a sneak peek at some of the series’ future characters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vanessa Finaughty
• Release date: Nov 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301761777

Vanessa Finaughty

Vanessa grew up in Cape Town, and still lives there with her husband of fifteen years, her baby daughter and plenty of furry, four-legged ‘children’. Her passion for the written word started her career as an editor and copywriter, and she part-ran a writers’ critique group for close on seven years. She's been writing ever since she learnt how, has always been an avid reader, and currently lives on coffee and cigarettes. Her interests include reading, photography, the supernatural, life's mysteries and martial arts, of which she has five years’ experience. Review copies of all Vanessa's books are available upon request, and fans are welcome to email her at [e-mail] - she loves to hear any type of feedback and answers all emails personally. *** Please note that Vanessa uses UK spelling and grammar, which is not always the same as US spelling and grammar.

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SORCERY & SUBTERFUGE

Vanessa Finaughty

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 Vanessa Finaughty

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

Thanks to fellow authors and friends, T.C. Southwell, for editing this anthology, and Alphya Cing, for manuscript formatting.

Thanks to Sean McGrath for the cover image, which he’s kindly licensed under the Creative Commons license.

SORCERY & SUBTERFUGE

Vanessa Finaughty

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Ereolon’s Day of Demons

Prince of Runeguard

Sceptre of Tanara

The Enemy Crown

Colour of Silence

Ryokin Master

Ereolon’s Day of Demons

On the outskirts of the elven village Ereolon, Ardon Longvine stood before the crowd in the clearing he used as a stage. He reached behind him, trying to scratch his wings, but, as usual, was unable to reach the burning itch. Out of all the millions of elves ever born, why did he have to be the one born with wings? The early morning sunlight filtered through the trees above, giving his semi-transparent, fragile wings an aura of intense magic as he stretched them out at arm’s length. Green-yellow sunlight glinted off the precious stones his audience had thrown into his vine-made hat. No birds chirped; it was almost as if they were afraid he could control their minds too, which, in all fairness, he probably could, though he had never tried. He didn’t enjoy controlling anything, entertainment shows aside.

Ardon cocked his head at the tall elven blacksmith standing before him. So, Ardon said, you would definitely never let another man touch your feet?

The blacksmith, Obadian, who had babysat Ardon just under a hundred years ago, folded his arms. There’s something wrong about that. Never.

Never?

Never.

The crowd laughed, knowing what was coming. Obadian, too, knew what was expected to come – he’d participated in enough of Ardon’s entertainment acts to know that, if the young elf said he could do something, no matter how impossible it seemed, he would do it.

Ardon knew Obadian believed that the only reason his mind control abilities worked was that he never tried to make anyone do something against their morals or something they really didn’t want to do. He was so adamant that no man should ever touch his feet that he didn’t believe Ardon could make him allow it. He would soon discover the error in that.

Ardon grinned. All right. He patted Obadian on the shoulder, catching his eye. So Obadian, would you mind taking your sandals off for me so I can touch your feet?

Without hesitation, the larger elf sat on the ground and began pulling his ogre-leather sandals off. The crowd roared with laughter, many of its members doubling over.

Ardon scanned the faces. What do you guys think? Leave it at this or traumatise him by touching his feet?

More laughter broke out and an elf near the back shouted, Touch them!

Touch them! Touch them! the rest chanted.

Okay. Okay. Ardon held a hand up for silence. Who wants to be first to touch the sacred feet?

More raucous laughter filled the air. After three young men had touched Obadian’s feet, almost choking with girlish giggles, Ardon patted the elf on the shoulder again and said, You’re going to put your sandals back on and stand up now, then you’re going to tell us all it was a great experience.

The instant Obadian had done these things, he began to shake and his face clouded in anger as he took in the crowd’s reaction and realised he’d actually allowed someone to touch his feet. If it’s the last thing I do… he gasped. I’m going to end your miserable life.

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An hour later, Ardon sat on his phoenix-feather bed counting the precious stones. Elves from neighbouring villages had attended his show this morning, and he’d made a lot more stones than usual. Already considered rich amongst his brethren, Ardon had no real use for additional stones, but he took them anyway, because he loved the way they seemed to change colour in the sunlight – that trait came from his father’s side of the gene pool; ogres loved colourful, shiny things.

Ardon knew the only reason his village accepted his unique ‘talents’ was that he used them only for entertainment purposes and kept mostly to himself aside from his regular morning shows, where he would make his fellow elves laugh as he made them see things that weren’t there or do things they wouldn’t usually do. Even a few fairies, gnomes and spider elves – notorious for their antisocial behaviour – attended his shows, and all got what they came for, leaving awestruck and happy. Obadian was the first to ever be upset about it in all Ardon’s seventy-three years of entertaining the land’s inhabitants. How was he to know the blacksmith had an actual phobia about it? He would never have done it had he known. He wanted to make those around him laugh, not traumatise them.

Ardon emptied the precious stones into a plain wooden magically protected box, then slid it back under his bed. A few villagers were as upset as Obadian – typical of elves to gang up and lash out just because one was angry. One, in all the hundreds of thousands Ardon had used as volunteer subjects for his mind control shows. He supposed it was a good statistic, but even one was too much. He’d known Obadian all his life – how had he missed the seriousness behind his elder’s much-joked-about fear?

The village elders would be visiting soon. The villagers would be complaining right now, then the elders would come and give him a slap on the wrist and a lecture he’d tune out by daydreaming about being in some faraway place where no one knew what he could do. Thank goodness they don’t know the full extent of my powers, he thought as he stood up