Tale of A Minor Chord

By Y. F. Desince II

Maureece has long been drawn to the tradition of a skald. The warrior poets were rare among the minotaurs, but their abilities made them legends. No army would ever turn down the aid of a skald. Unfortunately for Maureece, his family boasted the finest gladiators and sailors in all of Maelthas. It seemed he was doomed to the life of a sailor. For a while he was fine with that, even though the path of the song still called to him. During a moment of crisis, he gave in to it.

Maureece's actions have shamed his family. Now he must redeem the honor that was lost, either his or his family's. The minotaur tradition of the Crimson Circle has been declared. Now the young minotaur must face members of his family. A trial by combat. Die, and his family's honor is restored. Survive, and his own honor will be redeemed. Never let it be said a minotaur's life was easy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Y. F. Desince II
• Release date: Mar 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463708514

Y. F. Desince II

Having grown up in the heart of New York City, I am the consummate bard, collecting and telling stories for the sheer joy of it, even before moving to the Midwest. I have recently started my newest journey. As a single father raising a family, I have not lost my zest for a good story, and have collected enough seeds to start a garden of my own. I prefer to write dark fantasy, and am currently in the middle of several short stories and a novel series on a world of my own creation. I am also am working on projects in other genres, including a horror novel and a superhero anthology.

Book preview

A Darkness Rising Presents:

Tale of a Minor Chord

Y.F. Desince, II

Published by Iconz Publishing

at Smashwords

Copyright 2020 Y.F.Desince, II

Discover other titles by Y.F. Desince, II:

Dark Harvest (available now)

The Fallen (coming soon)

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Tale of a Minor Chord

Prelude

"They came for me at sundown, on the third day of Blotmath, in the year 1360CR. How they found me, I do not know. The crimson horn with location and date was given to me by messenger. Honor demanded my kin track me down. Honor demanded that I face them. I knew they would come, and I was ready for them. It would not matter that I had already redeemed my honor many times over, for I had not redeemed myself in my family’s eyes. For them, only death would do that. Only death could do that. I would not dishonor them by delaying the inevitable.

"They came for me at sundown, as tradition demanded. Three cycles of the larger moon Kal’Cett, and then the Crimson Court would be held. There, I would face the trial of the Crimson Ring. Redemption would be earned by death, one way or another. If the sun rose on the day of the trial and I were absent, I would be drokma – without honor – and they would hunt me down. A coward would run. To live in fear, constantly looking over one’s shoulder, is not honorable. It is not living. Tis a fate for thieves and scoundrels. So, I stood watching the sunset, always a glorious sight, wondering if the next day would be my last.

"They came for me at sundown. My peers, my comrades in arms, my family. They would have been all that and more, had I chosen to follow my father’s hooves into the Imperial Army. Instead, I had been drawn to the dance of combat, the music of battle, and the history of wars. I wished to become dothek, a skald. Skalds were a rare, but not unheard of, profession among my people. The Broms, however, had always been a warrior clan. Our house boasts the finest naval officers in all Maelthus. Our house has had more gladiatorial champions than any other. In fact, the current Crimson Arena Champion is my older sister Delgas. For me to choose song over steel, was a grave insult to my family, and so when the opportunity came, I hid among the corpses of my shipmates and disappeared. I had thought they would assume me dead. I was wrong.

"They came for me at sundown, my accusers and judges. Coming out of the darkness like a raiding party, bristling with metal. I recognized them at once as they walked towards me in the moonlight. First came my cousins Drez, Borak, and Tren, great-axes in hand, armor well maintained, and showing signs of recent battle. Next came my uncle, Rizz One-Horn, with a peculiar expression on his face, one born of pride and duty. He twirled a double-bladed sword almost whimsically. Behind him came my little sister Garra, who could have slain me where I stood if her