A/N: Sorry this has taken me so long to write, I had a case of writer's block. I must have written this chapter 3 times, but now I think I finally have it. By the way, I feel compelled to say that the land of Tortall along with Alanna, Faithful, the gods, and anything else that I take from Tamora Pierce is only being borrowed. I did not create theses characters. Some, though, I did create (Lady Vanessa, Jordan, Becca, Baroness Mildred, etc.) also I created the new fiefs, including, but not limited to, Forrester and Gwenllian. Also, anytime something is italicized, it means it is spoken in mindspeech. Thanks! Please R&R!

The Goddess

Jordan immediately reached for his sword, drawing it from the scabbard with the ease of a practiced swordsman. He crouched in fighting position, looking warily around for any sign of Alanna or the orange figure. There was no doubt in his mind as to the identity of Alanna's attacker. The enmity between Lady Alanna and Duke Roger was still well known, even now, four hundred years after she killed him. No one in Tortall's history had had an orange-colored gift- not since Roger.

A flash of movement caught the Prince's eye. He whirled around; bringing his sword in an arc that would have killed anyone trying to attack him from behind. A black kitten with violet eyes was staring up at him. Watch it! Jordan swore he heard the cat speak.

"Are you talking?" Jordan asked incredulously. Of course I'm talking. What did you think it was, the sword? My name is Faithful. I've been sent by the Goddess to-

"Not another person sent by the Goddess! Isn't one enough for one day?" I am not a person- I am a cat. You obviously don't realize who I am.

"You already told me- your name is Faithful." Doesn't that have any significance to you whatsoever? I am-

Suddenly Alanna appeared, silencing the cat. Jordan tensed, looking for Roger, his sword at the ready.

"He's not here. I managed to lose him somewhere in Chaos. One would think he would know his way around there since that's where his Mistress lives." Alanna said tersely, her violet face looking annoyed. "I've killed him twice- you'd think with all those court manners he'd have the grace to stay dead." Her eyes fell on the cat that was now sitting on Jordan's feet, washing a paw. "So you're here, too. The Goddess obviously isn't taking any chances. Prince, it seems the Goddess has her hand on you and Lady Vanessa. Faithful is a good advisor and he's got a bit of magic that he's acquired since he was with me."

"That's who he is! He kept saying his name was Faithful, and that I should know who he was. He was the cat that followed you! I- "

"Yes, he was. But there's no time for that now. Roger could make it back here anytime, and I'd prefer it if all of us were far away by the he did. Your quest will not be easy, especially not with Roger after the Sceptre as well. If he finds the Sceptre, he will also find some important documents that will enable him to use his gift to bring himself, and anyone of his choosing, back from the dead. Needless to say, that is not a good prospect for Tortall, or your family, because he will bring with him an army of dead that will kill the King, Queen, yourself and anyone who dares oppose his reign. He would probably marry Lady Vanessa, to bring the Fiefs she governs under rule of the Crown. If that happens, I would not be optimistic about her future."

At that moment, a portal of swirling colors opened some fifty yards away from them. Roger stepped out, his orange hand clasped around a sword. "Get ready to fight!" Alanna hissed. Roger hadn't seen them yet, but it was obvious they didn't have much time before he did. I don't have my sword with me; I can do naught but give you as much help as possible. I'm going to revert to mindspeech so he can't hear me." Roger is a master swordsman; even I was hard put to fight him. He always uses a sword that he himself has made, and he usually puts some sort of evil magic in it. He is about the same height as you, so he won't have the same advantage as he did over me, and I doubt he's done much swordplay recently. It will be difficult to beat him, but not impossible. Just stay on your guard and ignore anything he says. Be prepared to use your gift, but he probably has the advantage there, so do your best not to revert to magic. Look out! We've been seen!

Roger began to run toward them, the distance between them closing rapidly. Alanna moved to the side to give them room to fight. Jordan just had time to catch his breath, and bring his sword into guard position, and then Roger was upon him. Roger brought his sword down in a lethal arc, barely giving Jordan time to pull his sword up and left to block it. Without hesitating, Roger immediately spun and began attacking Jordan's right side, moving with lightening speed. Jordan blocked mechanically, not having time enough to think or fight back. He simply continued to block every blow, praying fervently that he wouldn't make a fatal misjudgment. He was tiring quickly; blocking blows as heavy as this at such a speed was taking its toll on his body. What in Mithros' name is wrong with you, foolish boy? You're letting him tire you out! Stop blocking and just attack- it's what he least expects! Go for his sword arm- he's good with the other one, but not at this speed.

Immediately following Alanna's advice, no matter that it was extremely foolhardy, Jordan attacked Roger's right arm, not giving the orange man time to block. Soon there was a gash that bled orange fire from Roger's shoulder to his elbow, rendering his right arm totally useless.

Jordan continued his attack with renewed energy. It had worked! Roger was slowing down. Suddenly, just as Jordan was in the middle of a downward chop, Roger kicked Jordan's legs from under him and knocked the sword from his hand. Jordan was looking up a gleaming sword that danced with flame, its point resting on his throat. As Jordan realized that this was the last sight he would ever see, a woman's hand grabbed the sword, hands on the blade's edge, from Roger. A voice, husky and soft, yet commanding, that reminded Jordan of the wind blowing through the treetops, and at the same time of hounds belting, said

"Not today, Roger of Conté. This boy has tasks left undone." Jordan looked up and saw Roger vanish, and then he was looking at the most beautiful and ethereal woman he had ever seen. She was too beautiful to be human, with skin the color of milk, and full red lips. She had long black hair that curled down her back and seemed to reflect the stars themselves, and eyes greener than the greenest emerald. "It is not your time, Jordan of Conté, Heir to the throne of Tortall. You still have a quest to undertake." Then she was gone, leaving Jordan with Alanna and Faithful.