Chapter 8: The Curse of Seregil

It was only when Anarion returned, triumphant in his victory but also having suffered losses, that I emerged from the cellar in which I had taken refuge. Korothan and his captives had been gone more than two hours by my reckoning when I answered Anarion's call for survivors.

When he learned of what had befallen Garnett and Amanda while he was absent his face blanched. With but a single look at Justin and a conspiratory nod between them, he acted with haste to gather our gear and prepare for travel.

What followed was a week of frenzied running and chasing. Any words I may have spoken to this point about the speed of the mighty Asfaloth and the manner of his tireless endurance have been wholly inadequate. He is faster than the wind, he is faster than the swiftest of birds, he is faster than haste itself. In fact, I would say that Asfaloth shows the true meaning of haste, for one cannot true comprehend it until he has seen Asfaloth moving at a full gallop.

With Anarion in the saddle and myself perched behind him like a useless sack of baggage, we took off north, seeking out and interrogating every traveller we came across. We were able to hear tell of a wagon being pulled by a dead looking, beyond haggard horse that Anarion believed was in fact undead, but we never encountered it. We travelled up to Castle Crag at the speed of lightning, warning them not to let a vehicle of that description pass through, but it was in vain.

Korothan was truly a wily traveller indeed and made extensive use of his dark magics, for we never caught more than a rumour of him, and always in the wake of his passage. Somehow he passed beyond Castle Crag and crested the Gnoll Pass and that was when Anarion deduced both his route and his destination.

"He's returning to Dragonspear, taking Seragil's bride to him and her father to give her away. They mean to pass through the Stonelands, where we cannot follow, and by using that zombie horse they need never rest." He smiled grimly, looking as determined as I had ever seen him. "Any other person would admit defeat, for no horse born could make such a journey as to beat them to their destination, but I have Asfaloth. I have vowed to keep Amanda safe, and by the power of Anatar I will succeed!"

Oh, the pain I endured in the days that followed. My master was focussed solely on his task, recalling my presence only as an afterthought and making only the smallest of concessions to my comfort and needs. Life for me consisted of Anarion's back, Asfaloth's rump, the thunder of hooves and the blur of passing scenery. We ran from before dawn to after sunset, stopping only grudgingly to occasionally eat, drink, or catch a snippet of rest.

Anarion was fuelled by his determination and needed no food or drink. He accepted my offers of both only occasionally and grudgingly and slept less than an hour a night. Asfaloth seemed to gather his strength from Anarion for he partook of refreshment as sparingly as his master and never faltered or slowed in his movements, though he ran at a constant gallop for twenty hours a day.

As you might imagine, I had neither Anarion's determination or fortitude and was truly miserable. My day began clinging to Anarion while we rode and ended the same way. I even managed to nap in that position, though I grew pained and sore from it beyond imagining. I had to beg, cajole and whine to get even the shortest of respite and felt guilty whenever I did so, but unless Anarion wished for me to soil myself in the name of his mission, they were necessary. Thankfully, he did not.

As Anarion said, we could not follow Korothan through the Stonelands. Not only are they uneven and pockmarked with holes —hell for horses—but they were infested with tribes of goblins, orcs and the namesakes of the pass that admitted entrance to the place: gnolls. Instead, we travelled south to the northern highway of Cormyr, passing by Arabel and Eveningstar and threading our way through the imposing Stormhorn mountains to the western fortress of Highhorn and beyond.

All of this was in a single day; none of the places I mentioned being more than a passing glimpse of walls, buildings, and fortifications. We passed beyond the Stormhorns, the mountain range that formed the western border of Cormyr on the second day and moved through a lawless area of land known generically as the Western Heartlands. I cannot give any decent travelogue of the places that we passed through, for everything beyond that first day is but a single blur of misery, fatigue, hunger and pain. What I can tell you is that we travelled seven hundred miles in four days, covering more of the face of Faerûn than I ever thought I would see in my lifetime, almost to the Coast of Swords.

The entire trip Anarion was fretting; were we to be in time? Had he made the proper deduction? Would Korothan's tireless horse and more direct route prove to be faster than our longer, safer one? He said no more than ten words to me during the entire journey that did not deal with the logistics of our situation. I tried very hard not to take it personally, but failed. As I have said earlier, I was a less forgiving person then and blamed Anarion directly for everything I had suffered, both real and imagined. The two people who rode into the shadow of the infamous Dragonspear castle on the sixth day after Garnett's and Amanda's abduction were far from happy ones.

It is an imposing sight. The place is a ruin, of course, having been besieged by armies and attacked by wizards several times of the course of its existence, but towers and walls still stand in their own motley fashion atop its rocky tor. It was not the castle itself that we sought, however, but the caves to the rear of the castle at the base of the hill.

Anarion bade me get off and I did so happily, then gave me firm instructions to remain hidden until he finished his business. As I was of the firm opinion that what we were doing was sheer idiocy —a thief's credo is to always leave your fallen comrades behind, after all—I was more than happy to leave him to his business.

Again, when viewing these actions in retrospect, I am ashamed by what I did, or rather did not do. His cause was just, Amanda was my friend; I should have followed.

I have only Anarion's words to base the following events on, and he is notoriously closed mouthed. No doubt there was somewhat more to what I will now tell you, but only Anarion and the gods know the truth of the matter.

Korothan had obviously been busy in the intervening years, for he had recruited a veritable army of ne'er-do-wells who had undergone the same ritual he had, ingesting Seregil's blood or whatever it was. There were about fifty of them, and they were more than human. Some had armour-like plates grafted onto their skin, others horns upon their heads and claws on their hands. It is my understanding that they had made their living in recent years by banditry on the Great Trade Way. While they were certainly more powerful than typical human raiders, they were no match for Anarion and his sword.

He did not confront them directly, of course. Despite what people may hear about paladins and their brave deeds, they do not stupidly charge into combat against invincible odds if there are better alternatives. Despite what you may believe of his soft footedness (including my not so favourable opinion of them when we first met) Anarion is not a complete club foot. There are many I know quieter than him (myself included) but I have met known far worse as well.

The fiendish bandit's camp was made at the entrance to Seregil's cave, which had been widened and enlarged in the intervening years. Anarion, while not stealth personified, was not a rampaging elephant either, and made his way quietly up to its edge and partly inside it before being discovered. The lone bandits that met up with him were quickly and quietly dispatched and he was nearly at the cave entrance before the alarm was sounded.

All Anarion tells me is that there was 'trouble' and that he 'dealt with it'. Whether that means he slew all that came to him, or scared them off through intimidation (which he is very good at, by the way) I leave to you, the reader, to decide. However the situation was dealt with, he made his way to the cave entrance and prevented the remaining bandits from following him.

There were now several chambers within the narrow, twisted cave system and in one of the chambers Anarion found Amanda's clothing as well as some of Garnett's belongings. Knowing that the wedding ceremony, if had not occurred already, would be performed at midnight —still an hour or so away—he perhaps still had time to prevent Seregil's rising.

He explored the chambers, winding ever downward as he did so until he found the chamber that could only be Seregil's chamber. Anarion could hear chanting and crying within and made to enter, but found in his way another being infused by Seregil's blood. This creature was no mere bandit given a minor boost to aid him in battle, this was a dedicated warrior who had given himself over to Seregil completely. He was encased entirely in a stone-like carapace, had huge horns erupting from his head and carried a huge flaming two handed sword.