Sacred Sword Sample

Sacred Sword Chapters 1-3

Chapter 1

Devlin's eyes opened lazily to the bright, golden light of the morning sun flooding through his open window. He yawned long and loud, his mouth wide open as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. As Devlin sat up, he felt the soft give of his low-lying, feather-stuffed mattress that he slept on. It was far from luxurious, but it suited him well enough. He shared the room with his two brothers, with their beds in adjacent sections of the room. Derek's bed, of course, was neatly made and organized to match. In contrast was Roark's side, looking like the aftermath of a tornado, his clothes were strewn across the floor and bed sheets a tangled mess. It was a miracle that Devlin's and Derek's sides were unscathed. Devlin laughed slightly at the sight. Mother always nagged Roark about his messy part of the room, calling it a disgrace to the family. Devlin related well in that regard, as he was no different at Roark's age.

Cecelia had her own room since she was the only daughter. It was well kept and organized, even putting Derek's work to shame as not a single thing was out of place. His brothers think it was just to keep mom off her back, but Devlin figured she was more a daddy's girl than momma's perfect daughter, even though she didn't care for favoritism.

As he, at last, garnered the motivation to get out of bed and get dressed, Devlin could hear the eager footsteps of his brothers outside, heading towards the small stone home in which he lived. They most likely smelled the fresh breakfast on the range. The smell was quickly growing prevalent in the air.

Devlin picked out a red, faded shirt and a pair of tan cotton pants. Knowing it was mid spring, he wouldn't need anything too warm. Devlin took a quick glance in the mirror. His hair was a tangled mess, tuffs of hair sticking up in multiple places. Devlin's tired expression showed clearly through his drooping eyelids, barely showing his deep, green eyes, the eyes of his father. Devlin's strong chin was entirely his mother's in shape, however.

Devlin quickly fixed his hair with a spare brush and wondered how late he had slept in, seeing as how the sun was already well above the horizon. He recalled, not too fondly, countless times his father had grabbed and shook him awake at the crack of dawn, yelling at him to start his morning chores. Had today of all days not been his eighteenth birthday, his father would undoubtedly be giving him an earful even now. He walked out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen.

As he stumbled into the kitchen, still walking off his exhaustion, he looked over to the far end of the room to see the large crate Mother used for dishes was already prepared. The hearth on the opposite end of the room that she uses for cook looked as if it had just been put out. Then he saw Mother set down the last of the six plates on the large wooden table. He noticed the steaming-hot piece of ham and scrambled eggs on a plate and instinctively reached for it, only to have his hand smacked with his mother's spoon. "Oww!" Devlin yelped as he quickly retracted his hand to the protection of his body.

"I don't care if today is your birthday, Devlin. You will wait until everyone is here before you begin stuffing yourself," Devlin's mother said sternly as she started preparing the rest of the plates. The sting in his hand receded to a dull ache. His mother was fierce with a spoon and, growing up, he had quickly learned to fear his mother with it. Devlin looked up to see both Derek and Roark run through the doorway, grinning as they saw the food, but wisely chose not to pick it up as Devlin had.

"Well well, look who's finally risen from the dead. Roark and I were just about to bet chores on how long you'd stay asleep, Devlin," Derek said, laughing with mirth and joined the table next to Mother and Devlin.

"I seem to recall that I'm the one usually waking you up in the morning, Derek," Devlin retorted, playfully slugging him in the arm. Devlin couldn't help but notice he was laughing too. They sometimes fought, teased, and played little pranks on each other, but all of them were inseparable, likely even more so than most brothers would be.