Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [39]
Chapter 6: Settlers
Year of the Firestars
(6 DR)
Ondeth Obarskyr was being watched, of that he had no doubt. Throughout the morning, he had felt someone's eyes following his every move-an ever-present gaze that came not from the stockade or the houses, but from the forest itself.
It made him slightly anxious-an unseen watcher could mean no good-but there was nothing to be done about it, so Ondeth continued his tasks. For this day, that meant splitting the last large trees.
When they'd first arrived in this glen, it had been strewn with piles of uprooted trees and overgrown brush. Some of this tangle had rotted where it lay, and the Obarskyrs mixed it with the rich, crumbling earth to feed their crops. The larger chunks of hardwood that withstood the weather were used for building or burning, depending on their size and condition. The evening hearth and the firepit, it seemed, would have ample fuel for as many as four years.
Ondeth had already used the most suitable wood to erect the small stockade and the low houses within it- mean, small huts, unlike those his wife Suzara was used to back east. She bore up to the harsh conditions as best she could, but their evenings together often held hushed, whispered arguments in which Suzara spoke most, and about the same things: the dangers here, and how things would be so much safer on the eastern side of the sea, back in Impiltur.
Ondeth chose his next victim from the woodpile, a good-sized piece that young Rhiiman and Faerlthann had sawn into a thick, drum-shaped slice. The original tree had been scorched and apparently felled by lightning, and as such would be unsuitable for building. Everyone knew that using a lightning-struck tree in your home merely attracted more bolts from the blue. Ondeth grunted and hefted the thick chunk onto the chopping block, a stump of iron oak not worth the work needed to uproot it or carve it apart.
Whoever was spying on him, thought Ondeth, could at least be civil and introduce himself. Ondeth could definitely use some help.
The boys were out tending their snares. Ondeth's younger brother Villiam was hurrying to finish his own house. Two days from now, the younger Obarskyr would begin the slow hike eastward to the rough-hewn, swampy port of Marsember, where the rest of his family would arrive. Perhaps Suzara would be happier with a few more women about.
Suzara wasn't the mysterious watcher, of that he was certain. She had enough to do at the moment. Their last argument, hissed in urgent whispers in the depths of the night before, had been the worst so far.
"At least we could go back to Marsember!" she'd implored him, her head resting on his massive, hairy chest. She wouldn't argue in front of the boys, so Ondeth lost sleep as they fought in whispers so as not to wake the others.
"When you first saw Marsember, you called it a poisoned swamp town," he'd replied wearily.
"It is," she said harshly, "but at least there are people there! Real people-not ghosts and goblins waiting beyond the trees."
"There are no ghosts here," said Ondeth, recognizing where this argument was going. Their disputes had begun to travel well-worn paths. "We are the first men and women here. It's a chance for a new beginning."
"I know there are ghosts. They're watching from the woods." Fear pervaded her tone, as it always did when she spoke of eyes in the trees.
"There's no one out there," Ondeth reassured her. 'Well, perhaps some elves out hunting, but nothing else. Give it a full year, then we'll decide."
"I have already decided," said Suzara. "I'm only waiting for you to agree."
"We are staying," said Ondeth firmly, in the iron tone of voice that signaled an end to the conversation. He had used that tone overmuch in recent days.
"So you say," his wife hissed coldly, and he felt her jaw clench against his chest.
He curled one