The light of the sky started to fade, and Halt had reached the fief of Seacliff. He had tracked the cult east to the Narrow Sea.

Halt led Abelard off of the ferry and tipped the captain of the small boat. "They can't be here," he muttered to himself as he scanned the small town. "They must have gone past the sea."

Abelard neighed. Gallica.

Halt looked at Abelard with a raised eyebrow. Why Gallica?

Because.

Halt rolled his eyes and mounted his horse. Because is not a good reason.

It is!

Knowing that he could never win an argument against Abelard, Halt said nothing and rode through a small, untidy path and emerged into a clearing with a cabin identical to his.

Ranger Bartell, the ranger of Seacliff looked up as Halt appeared. He set down the axe, he was using to chop firewood and approached Halt, who dismounted.

"Halt O'Car-" Halt paused. "Halt Arratay, Ranger 2."

Bartell ignored Halt's fumble of words  and nodded. "Bartell, Ranger 34."

"What brings you here, Halt?" Bartell asks after a pause. The two had gotten acquainted with each other at the previous gathering. "Anything wrong?"

"I track a cult that calls themselves The Amethyst Order," Halt went straight to business. "Have you heard of them?"

"I can't say that I have heard of them," Bartell started.

Halt frowned.

"But," Bartell continued. "I did spot some strange ships passing by two days ago."

Halt perked up. "Where were they headed?"

"From the direction they were going, I would say," he paused. "Gallica."

Abelard tossed his head back. Told you!

Bartell invited Halt inside, and Halt let Abelard into the small stables where Bartell's horse greeted them. Halt explained the basic things about his mission to Bartell over a cup of steaming coffee, and he invited Halt to stay with him for the night.

"Would you stay here for the night?" Bartell offered. "No use in paying to stay at the inn."

"Sounds fine to me," Halt said as a knock was sounded.

Bartell jumped up and opened the door. He smiled as he saw who it was. "Hello Edwina," he warmly greeted. "Come in!"

A middle-aged women came in with a pot in her hands. She blinked in surprise as she saw Halt sitting on a chair beside the table with a coffee mug.

"Halt," Bartell nodded towards him. "This is Edwina." He looked at Edwina. "This is Halt."

"Good evening, Ranger Halt," Edwina bowed her head as she set the pot on the counter next to the oven.

Halt said nothing and looked at Bartell with a raised eyebrow.

"Edwina cooks and cleans for me," Bartell quickly explained.

"You don't do it yourself?"

Bartell shrugged. "Baron Ergell pays for it. And I'm not going to object anyone trying to earn some extra coin."

"I'll just leave," Edwina interrupted heading for the door. "I'll pick up the pot tomorrow!" She called over her shoulder as she walked back to the village.

Halt silently disapproved Bartell's ways. He seemed too relaxed, but he couldn't change how someone does their job.

"Shall we eat then?" Bartell interrupted his thoughts as he poured himself a bowl of soup.

>>>------------->

The morning sun shone it's brightest as Halt stepped onto a Skandian wolfship. With the help of Bartell, Halt had managed to get a lift to Gallica with some Skandians stopping by to wait out a night storm.

Halt cautiously stepped onto the ship with Abelard following. He didn't like the skirl or the crew. They seemed very... suspicious. With a relaxed smile, Bartell waved Halt off as the ship left.

Halt clutched the railing on the side of the ship as it lurched. He never liked boating-especially long trips.

His face turned into a light shade of green after the first couple of minutes, and his knuckles were white from gripping the rails.

"I'm fine," Halt gritted his teeth as a member of the crew walked up to him.

"I wasn't going to ask how you're feeling. I just wanted to know if your skin color usually pale green." The bulky man laughed.

Halt faced the Skandian. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." He growled before leaning over the railway and making a ghastly sound.

More Skandians came up, surrounding Halt, who narrowed their eyes at them. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

"It seems like you have underestimated our skills," a snarl sounded.

The Skandians moved to let the skirl through. He was wearing the signature cloak of the cult.

"We are not as stupid as you think."

Halt growled, no longer feeling sick. "Where is my apprentice?"

"Probably dead by now," the skirl cackled.

"No!" Halt protested. "I will not believe it. Not unless there is a body."

Suddenly there was a loud cry of pain. Halt's head snapped to Abelard, who faced three of the Skandians. He was tied to a pole and was stamping his hooves.

"Abelard!" Halt cried as he started to push the Skandians around him to the side.

Abelard kicked at two Skandians, but the third managed to get him to fall. Halt, however, was not so lucky. He was shoved down by the skirl.

"We'll see how you deal with this," the skirl hissed before he reached for a sharp bundle of wood and slamming it down on Halt's head injury causing him to black out.

A/N:

Did y'all think that Halt would be unscathed during his journey? Because I would never make any journey easy!

I realize that this chapter may be a bit rushed, but I tried my very best to slow the pace just a little.

Feedback anyone?