The Tale of Halfast the Woodsman - short story

Hey all! Welcome back for another short story set in the harrowing world of The Whispering Depths…

This time we’re following a southerner from a small village near Stone Hill (map coming soon I promise!) - Halfast.

I’m trying something a bit different with this story - I’m going to keep releasing it in a serialised format. So every two weeks or so there will be another short story continuing that tale of Halfast. Be sure to subscribe to the email list so you don’t miss any updates, and without further ado, let’s jump right into the story.

Halfast the Woodsman

Halfast could still recall the day they took him.

He stood in the snow, his boots soaked through with sweat and mud, chopping wood. His axe sunk deep, splintering the log with a loud crack. He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow with a thin rag. 

“Papa, papa!” He heard, as the small bundle wrapped in white furs came scampering through the trees. It scurried to the edge of the tree line and paused, readying itself, before launching at him. He caught it in both hands, laughing as he pulled back the hood to reveal the round, brown eyes concealed beneath.

“You should be more careful, Sidna.” Halfast scolded with mock disappointment. “You might trip on the roots.”

“Sorry Papa.” The girl said, lowering her head, looking at her father with eyes she knew would weaken him.

“Ah, you little rat. Taking advantage of a poor old fool.” He scratched at her stomach, the girl squealing and laughing, wriggling to free herself from Halfast’s iron grip. 

“You had better listen to him, Sidna.” He heard her voice from the tree line, from where Sidna had emerged. “Or I don’t think your father will let you free.”

“Papa, Papa, please!” The girl gasped between fits of contagious laughter.

“Only if you promise to behave.” Halfast said.

“I promise!”

“Very well, then.” He released the girl, who ran to her mother, hiding behind her skirt. 

“Help me, Mama.” He heard his daughter whisper, still chuckling.

“Don’t worry little one, I will protect you from this vile beast.” She smiled, stepping closer to her husband. “Supper will be ready soon, Halfast. I thought you might want this.” She offered him a ceramic cup, frothing beer spilling over its rim.

“Thank you, Mera.” He smiled, gulping the sweet golden liquid. 

“You’re welcome, my love. Supper soon, yes? Don’t be late, or I’ll feed it all to Freki.”

Sidna waddled over to her father, beckoning him to kneel so she could whisper in his ear. “We’re having stew again.” 

“Stew? Sounds delicious. I’ll finish up out here, then we can eat!”

“Sidna, do you want to stay out here and help Papa?”

“Yes.” The girl grinned, hugging Halfast’s leg.

“Alright. Don’t dawdle, you two, or Freki will grow fat.”

Mera winked at Halfast, then turned and waltzed back towards the small house.

“Help me carry this, Sidna.” Halfast stacked the split logs in his arms, offering a handful of twigs for his daughter to carry.

They trudged through the thin blanket of snow, Sidna struggling to keep pace with the long strides of her father.

“Papa, slow down!”

“Hurry up, little one, or we’ll go hungry!” He teased. “You don’t want to anger your mother again.”

“Wait, Papa!” 

He turned, and saw the girl bending to pluck the wild yellow flowers that sprouted from a nearby bush. 

“What are you doing, Sidna?” 

“I’m picking flowers for Mama! Do you think she’ll like them?”

“Yes.” Halfast laughed. “She will like those ones best, they’re her favourite colour. Come on, I’ll help you pick them, but then we need to go home.”

He bent down, pulling four flowers from the bush, handing them to the girl. She gripped them tight, before continuing along the path.

The two began to shuffle, and then to run, racing each other through the trees, laughing and playing.

Halfast saw the light of the cabin in the distance, a single speck of dancing orange in the twilight of the woods.

As they drew nearer he saw the cart, standing idly in the road that led to their home, a great draught horse reigned at its front. He saw, too, the imperial colours, crossed red spears beneath a crown, on a field of white.

They would not be here if they meant well, he thought.

He stepped closer to the house, and heard a faint panting. A large dog with dark black fur came padding over to him, whimpering as it nuzzled its head into his leg. 

He knelt, stroking its face and kissing its forehead. 

“What happened, Freki?” He asked the dog. “Who’s here?”

Freki only whined, nuzzling him further.

“Sidna.” He hissed, placing down his firewood and grabbing his daughter by the wrist. “Sidna, listen to me. You must hide.”

“What is it Papa?” Her eyes had gone wide, her flowers now abandoned in the mud.

“There are bad men here, Sidna. I need you to hide, please. Stay safe, and stay quiet.”

“Papa, I don’t want to…”

“Please Sidna. Take Freki and hide in that bush over there. I will come and find you when it’s safe.”

“Papa…”

“Go now, girl. Please. Freki will look after you.”

Eyes still wide, the girl scurried away into the dark, crouching in the bushes. 

“Go.” Halfast ordered Freki. The dog stared up at him, sitting at his side. 

“Freki.” He warned. “Take care of her.” He pointed, the dog following his gesture to Sidna. He seemed to understand and, lowering his head, stalked over to the girl. 

“Good boy.” He said as the dog wrapped itself around her, watching Halfast as he moved towards the cabin.

He heard nothing, could sense no motion from within the small log cabin, though he knew they were within. 

They were in his home. The home he and his father built with their own hands. The home he’d shared with Mera. The home in which Sidna had been born.

He took his first tentative step, readying himself for what might come. He let out an uneasy breathe, resting his axe against the wall, then pushed open the small wooden door.

The warm air washed over him, the smell of cooking meat and fresh bread filling him. The smell of home. 

“Good evening, Halfast.” The man smiled at him as he entered, speaking in a thick Archian accent. “Might we have a moment of your time?”

There were two of them, armoured in the glittering bronze plate of the Oenareen infantry. Mera stood by the hearth; eyes fixed on the floor. 

“What do you want here?” Halfast asked.

“Halfast.” The man laughed. “Why so hostile? We are simply here to check in on the community, to ensure prosperity. There’s been some… unrest in Stone Hill, and we simply wanted to stop in, to see that no damage had been done.”

Halfast paused a moment. He felt his jaw clench, his body poised and ready. “We are thankful for your concern.”

“I’m sure you are.” The man continued. “This is a lovely home. Did you build it yourself?”

“With my father.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Where is he now?”

“He died years ago.”

“How unfortunate. You have our condolences.”

“I thank you.”

“How did he die, if I may ask?”

Halfast recalled the night. The raging flames, the soldiers. The spear piercing his father’s chest. He clenched his fists, willing away the memory

“Fever.” He said.

“An unfortunate hazard of living away from the prosperity of the cities, I’m afraid. So he does not live here?”

“No.”

“Just the two of you, then? You and your lovely wife here?”

“Yes.”

“Such a young, handsome couple, you are!” The man took Mera’s face in his armoured hand. “No children?”

“No.” Halfast held the man’s gaze. “We have tried, but the Gods have not blessed us with children.”

“I see…” The man rose from his stool, his boots echoing as he paced about the room. “And what exactly do you do, Halfast? If I may ask. Have you a trade?”

“I’m a woodsman.”

“Ah, handy with an axe, then?”

“I am.”

“How wonderful…” He saw a glint in the man’s eye. “Listen, we know that the relationship between the empire and the southerners has been strained of late. But we want to ensure that our mutual cooperation is maintained. You are friends of the empire, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” 

“Good, good. Then, as a show of your friendship, I’m sure you won’t mind us taking some grain? We must all do our part, after all, for the betterment of the empire.”

“Take it. It is yours.”

“How generous! I knew you were a good and sensible man, Halfast. There is, however, one other small matter we must discuss.”

“What?”

“Well, there’s the problem of your manners.”

“My- My manners?”

“Yes. See Halfast, where I’m from, it’s incredibly impolite to lie to your guests. Now you said we were friends, and I would hate to think that was a lie as well.”

“No - I didn’t-”

“Come in, Manceon.” The man called. The door swung open, a third glittering soldier, a full head taller than Halfast, lumbering into the cabin, dragging Sidna with him, bawling. The girl kicked and wailed, but the large hand of the soldier held firm.

He heard a low growl, and watched as Freki leapt through the door from the darkness, teeth bared and ready to gore the lumbering giant. 

Manceon turned, his armoured forearm catching in the dog’s mouth. Freki was young and strong, but no tooth or claw could penetrate bronze. The soldier reeled back, sending his boot into the dog’s ribs. Freki yelped and whimpered, but held firm, committed to protecting Sidna. 

The man only laughed as he launched another kick. The dog was knocked loose, crying out as he fell to the floor, panting.

“Please!” Halfast turned to the Archian man. “Please, just leave her, take me.”

“Oh, we will.” The man strode forth, swinging his gauntlet into the side of Halfast’s head. He recoiled, raising his arms to shield himself, but the blow found its mark, and he fell, stumbling, into the snow outside. 

“Bring her.” The man commanded, and his comrades dragged Mera and Sidna out into the cold air. 

“You thought you could lie to your betters, filth?” The soldier hit him again. “You thought you could escape?”

From the corner of his eye Halfast saw his axe, resting against the frame of the cabin. He lunged to grab it, surging toward the armoured men. 

“Stop.” Was all the man said, calm as can be. He held a dagger in his hand, its point resting against Sidna’s throat. A droplet of thick red blood rolled down its edge. “Stop or she dies.”

Halfast’s axe froze in his hands. He slumped, allowing it to fall amidst the snow. 

“Good.” The man grinned, striding over to him. “You’ve got some fight in you, savage. But you’ve got some sense as well. Never forget this.”

His heavy gauntlet sunk into Halfast’s belly, sending him heaving. The man knelt beside him, a strong hand on his shoulder. 

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to climb up into that cart, and you’re going to come with us. I feel I don’t need to articulate what will happen if you refuse, or if you fight back in any way. Do you understand?”

Halfast spat blood, glaring up at the man. The Archian man grabbed Halfast by the hair, driving his face into the mud and spew. 

“Do you understand?”

“Yes!” He finally choked. 

His hands were bound, and he was hauled to his feet. He caught his wife’s eye as he was thrown into the back of the cart. She held their daughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. He dared not call out, for fear of retribution from the cruel soldiers. 

The rough wood scraped and splintered his skin, but he did not care. He barely felt it. 

“Papa!” He heard his daughter wailing. He watched the faint orange light shrink in the distance as the cart set off, down the narrow dirt track that led to the city. 

Long after the small light had disappeared he could still hear Sidna’s cries echoing through the still air of the night. The cries of a girl, far too young to understand why he was gone. 

Don’t cry, little one. He thought. I will see you again.

- 

So that’s it for this week, thanks for reading! Be sure to tune in next time to find out what happens to Halfast! Be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss out!!

As always, thanks for reading, see you next time!