If you missed chapter 1, read it before checking out chapter 2.

This short story came about after a reader once asked me how Himmel found the medallion in The Earthspark. At the time, I wasn’t entirely sure, but now, I’ve unearthed the true story and I want to share it with you. So for the next five weeks, please enjoy The Woodcutter as I share one chapter each week.

*Please note that this story is copyrighted and is the sole property of the author. No part of this may be transcribed, copied, or used by humans of any intelligence or artificial intelligence without the express written consent of the author. Thank you.

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Chapter 2: Magic in the Trees

Shuttered windows topped by a patchy thatched roof, and peeling white paint on wood siding, greeted Himmel and his horse as they rounded the bend. His short, two-wheeled jaunting cart rattled behind the sway-backed horse carrying his new saw. Smoke rose in swirls from the chimney of his tiny cottage, turning bronze in the fading sunlight. Betany must be inside making dinner. 

Himmel shuddered. He loved his wife, but he hated her cooking. 

The old draft horse plodded along to the corral without his guidance. It was just as relieved to be home as he was, with only songbirds and squirrels to chatter at them. The sounds of the forest soothed away his anger at the Meyers. The pair had been awful when they were children, and getting their new appointments as the councilors of Feltus by the village elders only made them worse. Himmel wouldn’t be surprised if the pair had blackmailed every elder in order to secure the vote.

With a sigh, Himmel unhooked the cart and rolled it to the side while the tan-colored horse waited patiently for him to remove its harness. Once the bridle was out of its mouth, it lumbered into the paddock where its meal of forest grass awaited.

Unable to delay going inside any longer, Himmel gave the horse an envious look. If only he could eat grass, then he could stay out here and avoid whatever was filling the house with smoke. With a resigned slump to his shoulders, he grabbed the new saw from his cart and trudged over to the front door, twisting the handle. The moment a gap opened between the door and the frame, a stench hit him like a frying pan to the face.

“That you, Himmel?” came Betany’s voice from somewhere in the smog. 

The small cottage was lost in smoke. The woman must have tried baking bread again. With the attention of a butterfly, Betany likely put it into the oven and wandered off to milk the cow, burning the bread to charcoal. 

He wrinkled his nose, glad the mirk hid his expression as he said, “Yep, it’s me. I’m going to head out to the east quarter and get to work. Make sure everything is good to go with the new saw.”

“Well, don’t take too long. I’ve got some current berry stew almost ready, and biscuits to go with it.”

When would she ever learn to cook anything without current berries? he wondered before closing the door behind him and raising his eyes to the Great King above. Why in the wandering woods hadn’t he thought to buy a loaf of bread while he was in town? 

Oh, right. The Meyers.

Thinking about the pair again, he ground his teeth as he entered the shed. Those two were always hounding the people of Feltus for money. In the few months they’d been elected as the High Councilors, they’d turned their well-managed town into a place where even the deepest pockets were running dry.

Himmel grabbed his broken saw from the wall and laid it out on his workbench with so much force that the old wood groaned. He needed to control his temper better, or he’d have to pay for a new frame from Rowley, too.

With a gentler hand, he slid the splintered blade from the wood frame, setting it off to the side. Then he grabbed the new blade and fit it into place. It gleamed at him like a wolf, eager to find a meal.

Saw in hand, Himmel set off for the east quarter, a stretch of forest that housed some of the largest trees he’d ever come across. It was said the area was cursed with magic from the era of the Guardians. Black magic that tainted all it touched.

Unlikely. All magic and myths were just superstitious nonsense. Something only the foolish and foolhardy took for truth.

The only part that made him wonder about the grounding for the myths was the old fortress high along the spine of the mountains. Residents claimed that the fortress, with its steep mote and a broken bridge, once belonged to the Earth Guardian, Tellen Ramforth. It could just as easily have been some spoiled lord or king from days gone by, but strange things always happened to those who ventured too close.

It didn’t really matter. The main reason he came to this area of ancient trees was for the sheer fact that no one else did. Thus, he could work in peace.

Himmel had worked this stretch of forest for years without incident. So why stop now? The unnaturally large trees and the decrepit fortress kept all the “respectable” and “unblemished” residents of Feltus far from here; including the boys who threw rocks at him and called him “the walking plague.” 

And that was the way he liked it.

Himmel marched toward the spot where the largest tree stood. Its rough bark rippled like waves across the trunk of the redwood. He ran his hand over the sinews, glancing up. The branches loomed high above, waving in the upper breeze.

He sighed. Part of him hated to cut this tree down. It was likely one of the oldest in the forest. If he cut it down now, there wouldn’t be a tree this big for another century. 

However, he owed Rowley another twenty-five andari for the new saw, and he hated being indebted to anyone—even someone as kind as the blacksmith. Because if he couldn’t pay, he’d lose the one person who never flinched when he approached. Not to mention his other debts at the general store, the mill, and the physician’s.

With a sharp glance, Himmel picked the direction he wanted the tree to fall and positioned his saw. A grunt later, the sharp steel bit into the flesh of the tree. The forest shuddered. Just as it always shuddered when he took one of their members.

The wind in the trees picked up, and groans emanated from the redwoods around him. Snick-scrape went the blade, cutting its way deeper through the tree rings. It sliced through the tree faster than he’d ever worked through before. Rowley had outdone himself with this one. 

Himmel glanced up at the groaning, moaning tree as he shoved the five foot saw back and forth. He paused, mopping his forehead with his sleeve. Maybe by the time he finished felling this tree, Betany would have put supper away and he could just eat some ash cakes with honey.

He placed several wedges along the seam of his cut to keep the tree from pinching down on his saw and binding it in place. Another breath in and he grasped the worn leather-wrapped handles. 

Heave. Pull. Heave. Pull. The rhythm soothed away the frayed thoughts of his mind as he worked. Soon the faces of the Meyers disappeared and the only thing in his vision was the saw moving back and forth. The pungent smell of fresh cut wood was stiff in his nose. Sawdust piled up around the base as he worked, something he could sell to the livery stable as bedding for horses. 

He continued to place wedges along the cut as he worked. Several more snick-scrapes with his saw, and he was three quarters of the way through. The sun angled low over the western horizon. It would be dark underneath the trees soon. He needed to pick up his pace. He wanted this down tonight.

The saw snagged on something, jarring his arms. He heaved and shoved, grinding his molars as the saw continued to stick. The blade was dulling. He’d have to spend tomorrow morning sharpening each tooth, but he needed to make it last until this tree was down.

A wailing moan rumbled the grove and Himmel jumped back. The tree gave one final shudder before toppling to one side. If he was lucky, it would take down another tree with it, saving him the trouble. However, the tree missed its companions and thudded down with a dusty crash. 

After the cries of the other trees subsided, Himmel came to the stump to retrieve his saw. The falling trunk had bent some teeth. That would take him an additional hour to get bent back into alignment, then resharpen. But the tree was down, and supper was hopefully over.

He walked over to the sawn end of the tree, inspecting his cut in the fifteen-foot wide trunk. He counted over a thousand rings on the cross-section. An old tree indeed. If he hadn’t been so desperate for money, he’d have left this one alone to grow for another millennium.

The rough edges of the trunk left splinters in his palm as he trailed it toward the center. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Himmel detected a faint green glow emanating from the tree’s core.

He scrunched his brow and frowned as he peered closer. The core was indeed a lurid green. He tugged out the knife attached to his belt and picked at the center, trying to find what was causing the discoloration. Diseased wood sold for less money. If this tree had a hollow heart, it could mean he’d need to cut down another of these monolithic trees to pay off his debts.

However, as he dug farther, his knife pinged off something metal. Wishing now he’d brought a lantern with him, Himmel scraped at the glow until he’d revealed what appeared to be a necklace. He dug out the edges, and the trinket fell into his outstretched hands.

It was a medallion. One with thin silver vines wrapped around an enormous glowing emerald. The longer he stared, the brighter the medallion became.

Himmel sank to his knees. It’s not possible.

He’d always scoffed at the legends of the Guardians and their malicious medallions, but now he couldn’t deny the evidence resting on his palm. 

The medallion flared brighter as he turned it over in his hand. It was as if liquid light were seeping beneath his skin, filling him with a glow of his own. He gasped. Never had he considered that the legends were true. That magic might be real. But what else could it be?

“I’ve found the Earthspark medallion.”

Read Chapter 3