The bow was an exquisite weapon to Joint Point. The bent, smooth willow wood was silver in the waning moonlight, shining like the lingering snow from the polish instilled on it. A smile crossed the chocolate brown mare’s face as she admired the instrument of death. A sadistic smile, to be sure, but there was a great measure of joy in it too, the joy of admiring a piece of art. And, of course, life was an art, and death, caused by this stencil in her hooves, was the final mark in the work, the last stroke of life.
She wished to continue to admire her masterpiece, but with a resigned sigh, she straightened herself in the dark, stooping tree. She planted it firmly in the crick between branches, aiming it at the populated road. The cobbled path was full of ponies, many of them well armed and fit for war. They were mighty indeed in their shining armor, the swords swinging in their sheaths, the spears sticking up into the air. The metain tips seemed to be solidified moonlight, for that was how they caught the moon with their triangular tips, a constellation of death.
Joint smiled at her own joke, as she pulled an arrow out of her embroidered quiver, which hung right beside her head from a branch a little further up. The feathers, laced with a sugary lubricant to allow better aerodynamics in flight, tickled the tip of her tongue, the flavor of the feathers making her grin ear to ear. Knocking it carefully on the string, she aligned the shot she knew she would need to make. It was almost simplistic, really. She, a young mare who was barely qualified physically through her weight, was about to kill the greatest tyrant known to all the kingdoms.
Her smile vanished as she remembered the evil being. The long, thin scar on her back burned at the memory, the thought even, of the demon and his whip. There was no lack of hate for the evil being in her mind’s eye. Celestia herself had declared the stallion beyond saving. Though she hadn’t enacted anything to rid Equestria from him, she mused angrily, glaring down at the helmets and marching ranks of his minions.
No matter. Tonight would be his last.
Settling back a little, she waited. Her mouth kept the arrow knocked, and slowly, she began drawing the string back. Even though she had a horn and knew the magic well, there was something more personal about having your own muzzle, the deliverer of peace and war, be the one to end somepony’s life. Fiftythree ranks she counted. Her scouting and personal investigation had led her to numbering the ranks of his guard and army, leaving him in row seventy three. The bastard had never been too incredibly organized, but this in and of itself was lazy. Leaving yourself in a random location along the ranks in a heavily wooded area was deserving of what was about to occur.
Joint nearly chuckled, but a determined bite to the lip silenced her oncoming giggling. She replaced it with a slow, steady breath out, echoing what the wind would have sounded like if there had been any.
A determination took her over, turning her carefully careless attitude into one of sharp resilience. Her eyes narrowed. Sixtyone.
The confidence drained from her, as did much of the color in her face, but not out of fear or nervousness. All drained from her save it were the moon, the bow, and the arrow.
She closed her eyes. The marching suddenly began to fade at the sound of creaking. The wagon. She drew the arrow back further, the string straining.
Seventy two.
Release.
The arrow flew in a perfectly straight line, the speed at which it was launched not allowing even the slightest arc. The loud sound of shattering glass was concealed from her ears, but the noises of confusion of the nearest soldiers to the carriage were loud enough to be heard. She opened her eyes and watched in satisfaction as the carriage came to a complete halt in the very corner of her vision. Several ponies in exquisite armor and drawing swords were encircling the carriage, looking at the broken window.
Ducking back into the thick branches of the bare tree, she pressed herself against the trunk. Even though the moonlight might’ve given her away, her natural coloring and mishappenness of the branches so near to Tartarus hid her as well as any foliage could. A cry was raised up as the soldiers found their leader dead, an arrow stuck somewhere fatal. Her smile returned as she imagined an arrow stuck in his evil mouth, forever silencing any devious schemes and traitorous promises from being spoken. It was nice to think that the mouth that shot daggers was silenced by a far superior weapon
The soldiers began spreading out among the ranks and trees; she heard so from the commotion that was overtaking the whole of the soldiers. She relaxed, almost melting into the tree as she waited out the soldiers searching. They surged in and out of the trees, occasionally shouting something about a pony, but they never would actually see anything incriminating her. Silently she waited as a soft, glimmering snow fell onto her and soldiers, allowing her to better blend with the tree. Now and then, something would knock against the tree, but she ignored it all, enjoying the feeling of victory.
Eventually the noises of the search died down, but instead of drifting away like she hoped, the sounds of setting camp were staining the night. Peeking over the side of her branch, she watched in dismay as a group of fifteen stallions and one mare began setting camp. Half of them were setting up tents while two began a fire out of fallen and dried branches, the remaining forming a tight perimeter guard. Now and then they would look up to her tree, but every time they scanned it, their eyes slid over her well hidden body. This would not be the case in the morning.
She watched as they began cooking their food over the small fire, the smoke rising up into the branches, including hers. Joint forced her breathing to slow as the smoke slowly began tickling her throat. She could feel something coming on, something that would doom her. A simple thing really, the reaction of any sentient animal that was being choked. It was something that had happened hundreds of times over Joint’s life, all unimpeded and inconsequential. Except this one. This one would be the death of her, the misstep that would send her toppling down the mountainside.
She began to shake from the effort of keeping it in, her short breaths not helping any longer. Thinking quickly and almost irrationally, she wiggled her front hooves a little, allowing the small buildup of snow on her forelegs to slide loose and into the flames below. As soon as she heard the loud sizzling of water and fire colliding, she let out a restrained cough. It blended well with the sizzling, hiding her well and giving her ample time to adjust herself into a more comfortable position for the coming siege of self.
She coughed one more time as curses and exclamations of surprise and dismay were raised. Settling face under her fetlocks, she allowed the combination of her fur and the thin layer of snow to filter the air she was breathing. She noted -with no small amount of relief- that her breathing was clearer now, the half-filtered air almost completely devoid of any smoke. The rest of their cooking and meal went without significant action, though she did almost join the laughter of the soldiers at one of their companions' crude jokes.
An hour or so later, they were negotiating the night watches for their group, even suggesting to move to a closer group to combine their watches so they could all get more sleep. To both parties’ dismay, the supposed stallion in charge deemed it too late into the night for such a move. She listened as they settled out who was doing watch when, noting how many were on second watch and when it took place. Second watch meant tired newcomers, tired guards, and deep sleep. Add it together and she had an all around better chance of living to tell her tale.
She looked up subtly at the waning moon above her without moving her head. She was facing west, and the moon was almost halfway up, so around eleven, eleven-half if she had to guess. Maybe slightly later if Luna or Celestia had been late, or earlier if they had gone through the cycle quicker tonight. Oh please let it only be eleven, she prayed. Then she had much more time before sunup to escape the confines of the large army. Taking a delicate breath, she prepared to wait out the night.
Silence overtook most of the camps, even the other one she could see barely. The one that held the body of the tyrant. Joint suddenly added something to her plan as she stared down at the distat, glowing windows of the carriage. No movement flickered in the window, not even the light of whatever they were using to light the carriage. The bastard probably had one of those bullwater infused flamestones in his possession. Unfortunately, that meant that somepony, or someponies were watching over the body of their fallen commander.
Unfortunate indeed, but that didn’t stop her creative mind from establishing the outline of a plan. Imagine her Princesses’ surprise when she presented them with the head of their number one enemy! It would gain her eternal recognition as the mare who had brought peace and unity into the world once and for all. She would not only solidify her story, but solidify a spot among Celestia’s own Guard! The most prestigious of all jobs, aside from that of being Luna’s Tactician Grandeur. Either meant eternal memory, and either would be her’s with this act.
Joint ceased her daydreaming, focusing instead on the thought of her plan. The execution, as always, needed to be perfect. She mentally went over a list in her head of the equipment in her flank straps. Three knives, rations for two meals, a matchbox, flint, extra feathers, and a simple black powder infused tube with a string trailing out of it. The main problem would be getting down from this infernal tree without alerting any of the night watch. There was the possibility of doing it while they changed watches, but that would mean moving incredibly quick soundlessly, after safely and quickly moving down from the tree. There was no way that she could engage them in combat. Might as well be firing off fireworks; the whole camp would awake to the sound of steel on steel. Especially after what she’d just done to their commander.
The moon slowly slid over her as she worked through several situations in her head, until suddenly, one of the ponies below began speaking of transitioning watch. The time had finally come. It was still lightly snowing, the layer on her back almost an inch thick.
She stood up on her branch slowly, shakily, the snow falling off her back in rhythm to the trodding of the five who were on watch. Gently, she pulled her bow out of its place in between branches. Knocking an arrow just in case, she leapt to the snow below, right as the five entered one of the tents, calling for them to wake up. Her hooves flew quickly, silently across the ground as she raced in the direction of the carriage. She wasn’t quite steady or as fast as she wished in her running, having to hold the bow in one hoof and an arrow in her mouth. Even with her practice, it was still an awkward way to move.
No matter, she thought, nopony was there to see her. All around her were the camps of the enemy, tents forming small mountain ranges that held the monsters of Tartarus. Several ponies were out, some even seeming to look in her direction, but none seemed alerted of her true reason for haste. She was just another soldier rushing out of the chill from the privy to the warmth of her sleeping bag. Nothing alarming, even the bow.
However, as she neared the carriage, two figures leapt out the shadows of nearby trees. Without hesitation, she loosed one of her arrows, watching it lodge itself into the one to her left’s neck. Before the other could react, she had neared enough to strike. Having switched the grip of her bow to carefully worn teeth marks, she slashed the bow across the right one’s face, back and forth, the knives built into either side slicing her opponent's face open. The pony stumbled soundlessly to the ground, allowing her passage to the carriage.
A third pony exited from the carriage, not noticing her until she slammed the wood down mercilessly on his head. The stallion was too dazed to react to her attack, simply staring in shock and silent pain as she rammed the pointed end of her bow into his chest. The stallion wheezed slowly as she turned to enter the carriage, a noise loud enough to alert another pony from around the other side of the vessel. This guard walked around the side of it leisurely, headfirst into a quickly drawn arrow. Having attained a second horn, the mare fell to the ground with a soft thud, hardly loud enough for her trained ears to hear.
Panting softly from the slight exertion of the fighting, she turned to the open doorway of the carriage. It was only cracked, a stream of golden light flowing out into the misty darkness, but it was almost as welcoming as a warm fire on a winter’s day. She crept forward, watching wearily for any remaining enemies. There seemed to be none left as she slowly stepped onto the stool in front of the doorway. Relaxing only slightly, she drew a knife from her flank straps, clamping down on the handle firmly with her teeth. She threw the door open, viciously swinging her knife around in case any of her enemies were in the immediate vicinity.
There weren’t, almost to her surprise. She looked immediately to the body, not waiting a millisecond on her safe surroundings.
There he lay. The body of the Tyrant of the Mountains. He was posed simply, laying only as if he were asleep beneath the simple brown cloth. Interesting that they only had that to cover their dictator, she mused. Maybe now that they were free from him, they wouldn’t need to act as if he were akin to one of the Princesses. Amusing how it all worked.
She set her knife down on the left side bench, slowly leaning down to the covered body of her enemy. She almost was fearful of lifting the cloth, afraid to find she had failed, and that this body was somepony else’s. But she knew she had to. She needed to know whether she had succeeded, and if she had, she needed to take. It would be the only way to truly bring peace to the Equus Plains.
Slowly putting her hoof underneath the outer corner of the cloth, she took a deep breath. As she released it, she jerked the cloth asunder.
The first thing she searched for was the arrow mark, which she found quickly. The slightly diamond shaped mark was sewn shut, but was easily visible from the missing patch of black fur. She smiled bitterly. She hadn’t hit him in the mouth like she had wished, but she had pierced his heartless chest. Sadly his death had been instantaneous, but it was a death nonetheless. But now, the moment of truth.
Slowly, her eyes glided back up his black coat, across his chest and up to his stilled face. He looked almost peaceful, as if he were only sleeping. Joint winced at it. It was the thing she always regretted when she checked a body. The almost peace of death. Hardening her stare, though, she reached her hoof once again, this time to his closed lips. Shuddering as she touched them, she carefully pulled them apart, revealing sharp, pointed teeth.
Her smile returned in full force as she held back a joyous whoop of celebration, instead settling for a happy prance instead. Finishing her childish celebration of her enemy’s demise, she cockily smiled at the body, reaching with her muzzle to the knife.
“Oh how the mighty fall,” she whispered haughtily at the body, picking up the knife between her teeth.
“Oh how they do,” the body responded with an equal amount of haughtiness.