Frail Wings - Prologue
Summary: A trapped little lion in a gilded cage. A toy, nothing more, nothing less. Sequel to Suspending Consciousness
The long-awaited sequel to Suspending Consciousness and part three of the Mintea Ridicati series is here. Warning for extreme violence. Enjoy! ^.^
The birds had stopped singing minutes ago. A dead silence falling over the forest except for a single pair of boots hitting the floor, cracking twigs and leaves beneath them, kicking up water when the owner walked through a small creek.
Droplets hit the moss clinging to nearby stones but it was near impossible to tell where exactly they had landed. It was too dark to see and the man didn't dare cast a lumos spell in fear of being seen. Especially after the birds went silent. It bothered him greatly. Questions flew through his mind as he continued on, eyes flickering from one shadow to the next.
Why had they gone silent? Was it just because the sun was down and they only sung when it was up? Or was it for another reason entirely?
There could be a wolf in the shadows or another animal predator that had startled the birds but so far he hadn't seen anything. Nothing to suggest there was anything else out here with him. Though he had stopped seeing rabbits and similar small creatures just a few minutes before the birds stopped. He supposed they had just gone and hid in their tunnels underground. He wished he had an underground tunnel to run to when night fell as well.
It was nerve-wracking, wandering through here with no real destination. The last time he had gone into a place even somewhat familiar curses had been flung and he had barely escaped with his life. Which left him in places like this. The middle of bloody nowhere. Yet, even now, there was a prickling at his back.
Whenever he turned to look in the area it seemed to be coming from he found nothing there. He had to just be getting paranoid, really. There was no other explanation for why he felt like he was being watched but there was nothing watching him.
The birds though, he reminded himself. The rabbits, the deer, all the non-magical creatures had cleared out. He couldn't hear a single one in his patch of forest. If there was really nothing there, why had they gone?
Because you're here. Yes, that made sense. Animals didn't like muggles or wizards they hid from both. The smaller ones weren't the best at it though, which would explain why he had only seen one doe during his whole trek through this forest. The smaller creatures were fast though and usually dealt with muggles, so perhaps that made them braver. Muggles couldn't fling a spell at one, paralyze it then cook it for stew. He had done that once. No stew included. Just cooked animal meat. It had tasted foul in his mouth. Just like the air now.
He stopped, sniffing at the air. That wasn't just foul that was... rotting flesh. He hurridly pushed through a bush from where the scent was coming from stopping almost immediately in his tracks.
A doe. One that looked remarkably similar to the one he had seen, with the same white dot of fur on it's brow. It was sprawled out on the ground, stomach cut open, intestines scattered along the grass. The cut had been made with precision, one swift move. Not an animal then. A hunter.
He took a step back, the crack of the twig echoed in the clearing and he held his breath, because this couldn't be happening. Whoever had done this couldn't still be here. They couldn't have just killed the creature then left it to rot. Surely they would have taken the hide, the meat inside, the fat, the bones even. It was just on the ground, a few maggots already on the edge of the meal.
This could not be happening. He was in some random forest. No one should have been able to know where he was. They couldn't-
"You're shaking Karkaroff."
He wasted no time in turning and running aimlessly through the forest that was no longer quiet. Leaves cracked beneath two pairs of feet, stones kicked aside and into the bushes and trunks of trees. His breath was coming fast, echoing in his ears. The man's laughter from behind him was getting closer.
"Keep running. That's all you do. All you're good for," the voice mocked and he desperately pushed harder against the ground to speed up. This couldn't be happening. "Saving your own hide, not a care in the world for anyone else-" a curse hit a tree to his right, exploding in flames and he leapt to the side, tripping over an extended root that his pursuer must have known was there even in the darkness. He must have planned it.
He hit the ground face first, but he could still hear that the footsteps had slowed, that they were close, no more than a few feet away. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been sent to Azkaban," the hiss was low, and with air now returning to his lungs he moved to get back on his feet. He couldn't die like this. "Stay down!" An enraged scream cut through the air just before the force of some spell hit him square in the back, sending him back to the forest floor, dirt stinging his nose and getting caught between his teeth. "You turned me over like a coward. You ran like a coward. Now you're going to die like a coward."
There was a particular sound that caught his ears then. One he hadn't heard in a long time. A blade being removed from a sheath. His eyes widened, breath coming faster. "I-"
His side flared up in pain when a kick was delivered to his ribs. A series of cracks sounded in the air and he knew a few had been broken by the force. By Merlin, he could feel it. A deep sharp pain and he swore one of the bones must be peircing through his insides. "I didn't tell you that you could speak. Perhaps if you had gone to Our Lord he would have given you instant death, or at the very least punished and then imperiod you so you wouldn't be completely useless. As it is, I found you, and there will be no quick death for you, traitor."
With that last word he felt spit land on his cheek and he shut his eyes. Why did it have to be Barty that found him? Any other Death Eater he was sure would have happily turned the killing curse on him by now. He wasn't sure if he regretted giving his name to the Ministry or being born right then when the first crucio hit him.
His screams filled the air, body twisting on itself as if that would help to quell the pain. The feel as if a thousand kinves was twisting into his skin. It was the worst feeling he had ever-"Wait!" he yelled the moment he saw the flash of metal. Even so the knife dove down, buried into his arm by the hilt, going clean through to the other side. He raged inside wishing he still had his wand on him, that he could have a moment of clarity to throw a spell of his own at this madman.
The blade slipped out and he screamed louder even as he felt blood begin to rush from the wound. The broken ribs digging into him from the inside. It hurt like hell. "You came to kill me didn't you? Then just kill me!" he screamed. Going though this had never been part of his decision when he asked to meet with the Wizengamot and give the names of Death Eaters he knew. He had never signed up for this.
"Begging already? We aren't even at the hour mark Karkaroff. I'm very disappointed in you."
That mocking tone just made him want to yell again, but then he felt the crucio intensify and screamed even louder. That blade slipped into his other arm, pinning it to the ground. A boot descended on the other arm, pressing the open wound into the ground, dirt, leaves, twigs, small stones, it all pushed into his wound and he struggled to move away from the searing pain. "Stop!"
"Begging for your life now?" The boot twisted along his arm and he yelled again. "Pathetic. You know I'm not going to give it to you so there's no sense in asking for me to stop."
"I won't run away again!" he cried, desperate as pain lanced up his arm. "I swear! I"ll do everything in my power for the Dark Lord! Let me go and I'll help the cause freely!"
"Right, because everyone knows how well that went the last time." For a moment the boot wasn't pressing against his arm any longer and he felt relief. Then it connected with his elbow and his scream must have filled the whole forest for miles. He didn't want to look but he had caught a glimpse and knew for a fact that his arm was broken from the way the bone jutted out from the skin. From the way it felt, along with the cruciatus curse that hadn't once been lifted since this had all started.
Leaves crunched around him, the blade removed from his arm, and then another kick was delivered to his side, with a groan he was flipped onto his back and he stared up in disdain at the Death Eater infront of him. The knife gleamed red as he turned it in his hands so it caught the moonlight that managed to cut through the branches. "No, please."
"Please?" he laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Please mother, don't let them send me to Azkaban! I didn't do it! He's lying! Karkaroff is lying just to get out from that prison! Believe me mum! Please mother! I didn't do it! I swear I was never there! Mummy!" the high-pitched screams filled his ears, covering his own until Barty started laughing again. "What type of world do you think you live in that saying that word will ever help you or anybody else?"
His eyes widened when the Death Eater sat down next to his curse-ridden body. That knife was being raised and he tried again, "The Ministry made me-"
"They made you do it! The Ministry? Really?" Laughter assualted his ears, making it seem as if they were bleeding. If they weren't already from the spell. "They're not smart enough to come up with such a plan. You're just a bloody coward Karkaroff. For once in your life be a man. Shut up and die."
The blade glimmered in the light and he yelled, "No!" just as it descended.
He watched as the blade came to a halt, just inches from his convulsing chest. Bartemius glared down at him through narrowed eyes somehow looking more furious than before and then he was leaning over him, moving the blade up until it hovered right above his heart that was beating harshly in his ears. "No? That's really your final word, Karkaroff?" He parted his lips but all that came out was a scream. Barty's lips twisted in mock disgust as he leaned down further to look directly into his eyes. "I know a mudblood with more backbone than you," with that the knife dove down into his chest and all Karkaroff could do was scream as his life poured out from him onto the forest floor.