Please note that I do not own the work of Tamora Pierce.
For the Last Time—
A Prelude to Forgotten Ashes
The streaks of red, stubborn as she was, would not leave her graying hair. But she knew it was high time they were gone. She was old- too old, to look as young as she did. Somewhere in her mind, she had accredited that to being the Goddess' chosen, although she had never been quite sure. Almost eighty years old, now, her children grown, her husband gone. A year ago, and him always so sure that she would be first. He had been joking, always- "This one'll be the end of you, Alanna, mark my words-" And he had known he would be wrong, and always he was wrong. And now, on the battlefield, she faced her last opponent.
Roald had forbidden her to fight. Would have imprisoned her at the Swoop, but she would not have it. "I'm too old to live" she'd told him, again and again. "It's just not right." It was as his father would have done, she knew- but his father, too, had left for the Realms of the Dead. Too end this war…she knew she would not be able too, even as the Tortallans gained the upper hand. In her youth- in her youth, she might have believed that she could win the war single-handed, and believing it, been able to do it. But now- now she was no longer young. She did not fight to win. She fought to die. They would not win this war.
Her opponent was tall, his face hidden by heavy armor. His sword, she thought was almost as long as she was tall. She did not stand a chance. Still, she moved into the guard position. She was silent, as was the man she faced. She looked only at him, not at the sight she knew she would see around her. Bodies, that littered the field. Soon she would be only one of them. She shivered, and wondered- as unnatural as it was too live as long as she had, was it not also unnatural to welcome death? She no longer cared. He lunged at her, and the force of his movement almost knocked the sword from her hand. But she stood firm, blocked him, thrust her blade through an opening in his guard. Surprised, he backed up to block her. Her face, though protected, was not hidden. He knew whom he faced- an old woman, barely strong enough to hold her sword.
She lunged again as he flinched back, her arm shaking in exhaustion. He blocked her and moved forward in a single, lightning-fast movement, regaining the ground he'd lost. She could see it in his eyes, though, the only part of his face that showed under his armor- so it was not a waste of my time, after all, to accept an old woman's challenge. She smiled grimly, moved forward, and her blade banged against his armor. Again, he lunged, and again, she moved back, parrying his blade. Again, she looked for openings in his guard, as she had been taught to do as a child. And then he moved forward and struck, and it was over. She felt pain first, and then- nothing. She was gone.
The Scanran warrior moved off, and a shadow moved across his face. Had it been right, he wondered to himself, to kill an old woman? But moment passed- she challenged me, after all- and scanned the battlefield for a new opponent.