Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea
Chapter 16: A murder is attempted.
"Being a member of an expedition, it never really occurs to you that it might fail. That the ship will be lost with all hands to sink beneath the icy waves. That your body will never be found and that your dream of fame and glory will be lost to the frozen wastes. These are things that only happen to other expeditions. Your expedition, on the other hand, is the one that will certainly succeed. Your expedition is the one that will finally reach their end goal. So when your ship come across the remnants of those who took the same journey before you and paid for it with their lives, it is a humbling… and frightening… confrontation with reality."
- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006
The moment the Kingfisher hit the Gulf of Boothia, the weather changed and not for the better. While not nearly as terrible as the storm experienced at the Foxe Basin, the snow-fall and the wind made for poor visibility and ice cold air on deck. As such, the ship was breaking through the frozen waters much slower than before, to a point that any time saved by the storm breaking up the ice had been completely negated. It took the ship about two more weeks to reach the coast of Prince of Wales Island. From there, the ship headed north along the coast, with plenty of travel to go under these unfavourable conditions.
Which wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't be so bloody boring.
Hermione's routine still involved braving the biting cold to head up to the weather station, but conditions were simply not good enough for photography or observing the wild-life. Which left her with precious other things to do other than read, bum around with her friends and crew or, well… have sex with Trix when her girl had a spare moment not writing or editing her work. Trix was surprisingly diligent and frighteningly efficient with her writing, a testament to her girlfriend's obsessive quality. She would spend many hours of many days writing in locations all over the ship, engrossed with her work for long hours. It wouldn't surprise Hermione at all if she had a manuscript ready to be sent to her publisher the day Trix were to to step off the ship after a successful expedition had concluded.
Currently, she and Trix were sat on one of the sofas in the crew lounge, which they had mostly to themselves and their family. Hermione sat on the sofa, looking out the two large windows aft of the ship. Outside she could only see the snow whipping around and barely made out the opening in the ice the Kingfisher had left in their wake. Other than that, it was pure nothingness but stark grey-white. It might as well be black as night for all the difference it made. The ship was her entire universe at the moment. So, she focused on the crew lounge, which looked much like a cross between a pub and a living room. The bar was currently unoccupied, though some drinks were ready for the taking. Cozy lighting and several warming stones kept the room nice.
Of course, much nicer was the fact that Trix was on the sofa, sitting on her lap while pressing her back against the armrest. Having managed to rip her away from her writing for just a moment, an arm was draped over her shoulder and Bellatrix often lay her curly head on top of hers. Hermione swore, if she'd been alone with her, she'd already been ravishing her girl.
Unfortunately, she wasn't alone. Zipper was there, not that his presence would have stopped her. Tahki was slouched on the other side of the sofa, legs on the small table and reading what looked to be the same magazine she had bought in Canada almost two months ago. Nymphadora was on the sofa opposite of them, staring intently at the checkers board on the table. Her opponent, Fo'c'sle, was waiting patiently for her to make her next move.
Nymphadora scrunched up her upper lip in deep thought, scratching her head for good manner. From her expression, she looked to be on the edge of desperation. Until a grin formed. "Oh, I got you now, you little buzzer," she said and made her next move, shifting a black disk on the board and taking off two of the wasp's white ones.
The wasp looked at the board, picked up a white disk with his mandibles and swiftly claimed five black disks in one foul swoop.
"OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" Nymphadora exclaimed and buried her head in her hands.
"Hah!" Tahki laughed, throwing her magazine to the side to take in the spectacle of her cousin's fall into despair and to push the dagger into her heart just a little further as proper family was wont to do. "That wasp's been fucking your ass for the last two hours."
"I swear down… I had him back there, me! It was a dead cert!"
"Did I ever tell you what the definition of insanity is?" Tahki smirked. "Insanity is doing the exact same fucking thing over and over again expecting that wasp to suddenly lose."
A glum Nymphadora looked rather mournfully at a bag of crisps sat next to her on the sofa, while Fo'c'sle was eyeing it hungrily. "Three out of five?" Nymphadora suggested lamely. Fo'c'sle responded by opening his mandables and hopping briefly. Looked like the deal was rejected.
"Give a wasp his fair winnings," Bellatrix made a face, her tone one of warning. Ever the patron saints of giant wasps everywhere.
Nymphadora groaned. "Fuck's sake, it's my last packet of Nibb-its," she moaned in frustration, but gave in to throw her hands up in defeat. She took the packet of salty snacks and ripped it open. After laying it down in front of Fo'c'sle, the wasp eagerly stuck his head in the packet. Nymphadora could only look on mournfully when the crunching sounds started from within the bag. "You… are just… going to be eating that right in front me, yeah? Go on, give us a Nibb-it then, don't be snide!"
The wasp didn't give up his prize. Instead, he simply flew off with the bag still over his head and landed on the bar where he continued his meal in peace and definitely out of reach of Nymphadora.
"Oh, do one," Nymphadora muttered with a pouty expression, then suddenly frowned. "Hey… you feel that?"
Hermione did, in fact, feel that. A slight but definite shift. "We've changed direction," concluded Hermione, while a curious Bellatrix hopped off her lap. "It's slight, but noticeable."
"I wonder what happened," said Bellatrix.
They didn't have to wait long for the answer. Infinite Corridor teleported in through the ceiling, carrying what looked to be a clipboard. The wasp hovered in front of Nymphadora, waiting for her to take it. She did so. "It's… a message from the captain," she said. "He requests all crew and passengers to gather in the conference lounge on the passenger deck for an emergency meeting."
She frowned as she handed the clipboard back to the wasp, who immediately buzzed off into the corridor to find more people to inform.
"Sounds serious," said Hermione. During the entire trip so far, there had nothing as serious as to require an emergency meeting with everyone. The four of them, with the two wasps in tow, made for the passenger deck and found half the crew already gathered there. Soon, almost everyone on board with the exception of Eliam in the wheelhouse and Daelia in the crow's nest, were gathered. Chandra, for one, looked to be rather miffed for having been dragged away from her studies, while Eleanor looked to have been disturbed from a nap. The blonde Neo-Viking had also been invited, standing cross-armed while leaning against the hull.
"RIGHT!" shouted Beodul. "Shut yer traps, ye scabrous dogs! Cap'n on deck! Oh, uh… begging yer pardon, missus…" he added, tipping his hat to the members of the expedition. "That scabrous was intended fer the crew, not the honoured guests."
"Thank you all for coming so swiftly," said Captain Kirk as he stood facing the gathered people. He took a tug from his pipe and made a grim expression. "I'll keep this short. About half an hour ago, the crewmen working the wheelhouse became aware that we are nearing what looks to be the wreckage of a wizarding ship. We are as of yet ten to twelve miles out and I have given the order to intercept. With our current speed, we should arrive there within the hour. We do not know the condition of the ship, nor if we will find survivors or not. This area of the Arctic is poorly travelled, and regular shipping lanes would not take any ship this close to the coast."
"It's the Orpheus," Eleanor spoke up in a raspy voice. All heads turned towards her as she stepped forward. "It must be."
"The ship carrying the Heimdall expedition," added Bellatrix. "Our… predecessors."
"Yes," said Chandra, biting her lip. "The ship that was lost with all hands… ten years ago."
It was as if the very air in the room lowered several degrees as the implications of this very fact started to sink in.
Tahki turned to Chandra. "Why didn't your machines detect her?" she said. "Didn't you regale us with stories how your marvellous machines could measure and find a magical signal the size of the head of a pin from hundreds of miles away."
The buxom researcher crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave Tahki a harsh glare. "It's not that simple," she retorted. "The machinery is calibrated to trace low-level residual traces in the back-ground of a larger area, not the higher bands of a smaller specified area. Besides, it's not as if your fantastic savant powers picked up on it either."
Tahki was about to respond, but it was clear that she had no real defense. It was then that Kirk interrupted.
"Ladies, please," Kirk motioned them both to silence. "Our method of detection was very much mundane. As you know, we are mandated by law to have a muggle radar system and a transponder so we can feign being a muggle ship whenever the need arises. The wreckage, she being the Orpheus or not, has the same type of transponder on board and it is still transmitting."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "The ship's transponder is still transmitting? After ten years?"
Kirk nodded. "Transponders have enough battery-life to last for twenty," said he. "Our first course of action when we arrive will be to assess the state of the wreckage. Should we deem it safe to board, a small boarding party will explore the ship in an attempt to identity the vessel, determine the cause of the calamity and salvage both critical cargo and the crew's personal effects. The boarding party will consist of myself, doctor Big-Mouth, crewman Chiputec, Quartermaster Black, Fo'c'sle and Infinite Corridor."
"Captain, are we expecting to find survivors?" asked Hermione.
A murmur went through the crew.
"Doubtful," said doctor Big-Mouth. "In case you haven't noticed, the Arctic is rather hostile to human life. Wizards are no less mortal men than the muggle explorers of old. If wrecked this far from civilisation, on this particular barren island and this far from the regular shipping lanes, I would not expect them to last ten days let alone ten years."
"The ancient wizards made it from further North," countered Bellatrix.
"And they also lost about four-fifths of their number during the trek," Eleanor confirmed with a grim tone.
"Then why are we even bothering?!" Chandra spoke up. "Let the dead lie and leave us to continue on our voyage. We have a city to find."
Kirk gave her a harsh look. "Miss Raywood," he spoke. "I do not expect you to understand, but among those two travel the Arctic it is known that disaster in these dangerous waters can spell death for everyone. That breeds a form of brotherhood. We go now to try to recover what we can from the wreck so that the names of the dead can be known and their families can find peace and closure. We do this, because we hope that one day, another ship would do the same for us if they would find themselves in our situation."
Chandra didn't seem to be happy with this answer, but was sufficiently cowed to bite her tongue. The captain raised his head once more. "Boarding party, please report on deck next to longboat two immediately. Beodul will be in command while I am off the Kingfisher."
Hermione watched Bellatrix becoming a bit antsy, before raising her chin imperiously. Oh dear, Hermione had a good idea what was coming and she would be proved right scant a few moments later.
"Captain?" asked Bellatrix the moment Kirk was close enough to her. "May I have a word?"
"Miss Black?" said Kirk.
"I would like to join the boarding party," said Bellatrix resolutely, interrupting the captain the moment he opened his mouth to protest. "Now, I know what you're about to say, but allow me to explain myself. I am the expedition's chronicler. As such, it is my duty to log and truthfully describe the events and happenings of the entire expedition and its entire duration. Now, I understand coming across a shipwreck is rather grim and exploring it potentially even more grim, but consider this: if this really is the Orpheus, the brave explorers who stood before us and paid the ultimate price for their courageous attempt to find the legendary birthplace of all wizard-kin, deserve to be remembered by those who came after to stand on their shoulders. It is my job, nay, my solemn duty, to provide a first-hand account of their final struggle in these frozen climes! I am a small girl and will not take up much space in your longboat. My perception as a writer and a prodigal witch will no doubt be instrumental in finding vital clues needed to piece together the course of their last days!"
"Are you finished?" Kirk tapped his foot.
"Yes," said Bellatrix with a satisfied grin. "I shall go fetch my parka."
"No, because you won't be coming along," Kirk replied resolutely.
Bellatrix blinked. "What?!" she all but shrieked. "Why not?!"
"First of all, we have yet to confirm this is indeed the wreck of the Orpheus. Second, shipwrecks are potentially dangerous, particularly here in the Arctic. Third, you lack the experience a crewmember of any ship would have."
Bellatrix huffed. "This is Nymphadora's very first tour of duty on a ship and you're bringing her along. And I have literally travelled across space and time! I don't need to tell you about the dangers I have faced. I am more than qualified to deal with anything on board a dead ship!"
Hermione stood by and simply enjoyed the moment while witnessing this clash of two titans. Bellatrix, her Trix, with fire and fury in her eyes, her jaw tightened and the muscles in her neck strained as she stared down the much taller man. Kirk, the eternal stoic, seemed less than impressed by both her passionate demand and her fiery glare, standing his ground where most other men would fold.
"Nymphadora might be new to seafaring, but on the matters of cargo and loading she is still more experienced than you," he replied. "And while I do not deny your bravery during dangerous ordeals, I will not allow passengers, however qualified, to risk their lives unnecessarily. You are free to interview any member of the boarding party, including myself, after the matter has been concluded. Should we make a second trip, then I will consider your request. But only, and I repeat, only if we find the wreck navigable and reasonably safe to enter. Until then, you will stay on board the Kingfisher and that is final."
Bellatrix' opened her mouth, gaping like a fish before her expression devolved into a sad pout. The captain continued on his way out the room, leaving Bellatrix stood there, her eyes downcast. Hermione smiled and gently wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, kissing the nap of her neck for a peck. "I have been denied," Bellatrix muttered.
"It's not so bad," said Hermione. "You get to stay on board with me. And if the weather conditions are favourable, I'd be able to shoot some pictures of the wreck."
Bellatrix smiled, turning around in the embrace and kissed her on the lips briefly.
Despite three layers of clothing underneath a parka, Nymphadora still shivered. The cold on deck was a far cry from the cozy warmth of her own little hidey-hole below deck and she took solace in the fact that at least Rilly was nice and warm right now down in the warm bowels of the Kingfisher.
Unfortunately, Hermione wouldn't be able to make any good photographs under current weather conditions, Nymphadora mused. The wind and snow whipped around her body and the ship on the whole. Visibility was only a few meters, but what from what little she could see was that the Kingfisher now lay anchored fairly close to the rocky shores of Prince of Wales Island. Even so, she could only see the vague outlines of the crags beyond the snow-laden winds.
She was still shivering when they sat in the longboat as it was being lowered into the water and four people and two wasps were ready to make a daring trek to set foot on arctic soil. Thankfully this longboat didn't even need to hit the water as it floated just above the water and onto the ice. The enchanted boat, one of the Kingfisher two support crafts, glided through the air unperturbed by wind, snow or waves. Even so, the captain had urged caution as hitting a crag would still do damage to the longboat's hull.
Nymphadora huddled and hugged herself when another wave of cold hit her across the side, but as the longboat approached the crags the wind started to die down a bit. Though the howling blasts could still be heard, their destination lay in a bit of a cove protected from the wind by the rock-face shielding it. As the snow cleared somehow, the remnants of a ship could be seen in the distance.
Or rather, half a ship.
By now the longboat had floated onto the shore and they were mere meters away from the wreck. The surviving half of the ship was holding up surprisingly well against the elements and still held its shape. It sat on top of more crags, looking to be pinned through the hull. Its inner decks were exposed while debris and shards of wood littered near what would have been the midship, lain at the edge of the frozen shore.
"What the…" spoke Chiputec. "How the hell did it get in that position in the first place?"
"And where's the rest of that ship?" added Nymphadora.
"If I'd hazard a guess," said Chiputec, pointing to the frozen shore. "Over there, underneath the ice. It'd be a sharp drop-off straight to the bottom."
The longboat approached closer to the side of the wreck. Even though it held its shape, there were holes all over the hull. The mizzenmast lay broken by its side while remnants of sails still flapped in the wind. As did ropes snapped and still attached to the riggings.
"Be careful to avoid those ropes," said Big-Mouth, the vampire shielding his head with a heavy closed helmet just in case the sun would break through the clouds above. "They're covered with frozen ice. Sharp as a scalpel. Likely to take your head clean off if you're unlucky."
"I'll, uhm, keep that in mind," Nymphadora said, keeping an eye on the flapping ropes just as the longboat came to a stop. As the boarding party set foot onto the uneven land of the cove, the four of them stood at the side of the ship with two wasps buzzing in the wind. The side of the ship had been blasted by the winds over the past decade, and most of the paint and gilded lettering had been lost to time. However, the outline of 'ORP' could still be seen.
"It's the Orpheus, alright," said Big-Mouth.
"Odysseus class, constructed in Greece and designed for use on the Mediterranean," said Captain Kirk, shaking his head a little. "Not particularly well-suited for Arctic waters, even as a refit. See how they tried to reinforce the hull at the side with enchanted copper plating? It's not nearly enough. That ship wasn't designed to be an icebreaker and they would have spent some time stuck in the ice during the winter months."
Nymphadora's breath plumed in the cold air, grateful that this dead hulk of a ship, wherever it had come from, provided some cover from the cold winds. The torn sails flapped in the wind, having endured a decade of Arctic wind and still held fast to the mast. It was a testament to the workmanship which had gone into them. Nymphadora's gaze upward attracted the attention of Chiputec. "The sails," he spoke. "Look how high up the mast they were hoisted. They were travelling at full sails, captain."
"In these waters?" said the captain. "With a hull as poorly reinforced as that? That's either an act of sheer incompetence or… an act of desperation."
"You think they were on the run?" asked Nymphadora. "From what? Neo-Vikings?"
"I wouldn't expect them to travel this far from their territory, but I wouldn't put it past them," said Kirk. "Still, look at the state of the cargo hold. It looks mostly full. If it were the Neo-Vikings, they would have taken everything that wasn't nailed down."
"The fact they were travelling full sail makes the state of the wreck even stranger," said Big-Mouth. "How'd they even get into this cove?"
Nymphadora shivered again when it felt that the wind blew right through her. When she hissed, she almost was rewarded with a mouth-full of snow. She couldn't wait to be back at the Kingfisher and sit right next to a warmth stone for the rest of the day with a warm drink in one hand and a good spliff in the other. She was almost relieved when the captain motioned for them to enter the wreck. At least it would give some shelter from the cold.
Stood at the edge of the ship, she could see that the ship wasn't cleanly cut in half. Instead, it looked to have been shredded and broken over the very crags it sat upon. The lower deck was the cargo deck, same as the Kingfisher. The open deck greeted her like a dark, gaping maw, beckoning her to step inside. Somehow, she got the feeling of being on the edge of the lair of a giant trap-door spider just waiting to jump out when she got close enough.
"Let the wasps fly in first," said Kirk. "They have knack for finding structural weaknesses and the last thing we want it to fall through a deck or two and land on a sharp rock."
"Good point," said Nymphadora. "I don't fancy being turned into a kebab, yeah?"
As was said, so was done. Fo'c'sle and Infinite Corridor went ahead to inspect the state of the wooden flooring. Though the going was slow, the two wasps told the boarding party where to step by hopping on good planks and hovering clockwise above bad sections of the flooring. Nymphadora looked around the deck while the wasps were working and found it to be a mess. There were bottles and tins all over the floor, even though the cargo looked to be reasonably well secured.
"See anything salvageable?" asked Chiputec.
Nymphadora rubbed her chin. "Perishables have pretty much perished, but the tinned food should still be perfectly usable. Saw a crate or two of rum back there and some nice toolkits."
"We'll load those in the longboat if we have room," said the captain. "Priority for now are logbooks, diaries and personal effects. Things we can use to determine what happened to the ship, identify the crew and something to return to their families."
"Look," said Nymphadora. "The quartermaster's office is at the stern of the ship here. Might take a look and find the quartermaster's log."
"Do it," said Kirk. "The wasps will need some more time to inspect the stairs to the deck above anyway."
Nymphadora nodded and pushed against the door. Of course it didn't open as the very frame of the door had been warped. She was about to use her wand to blast it off its hinges, but thought better of it when she considered the state of the wreck. Instead, she used a spell to soften up the hinges of the door and managed to push to open after. The office she found wasn't nearly as nice as her own digs back at the Kingfisher, and didn't contain a bunk. Instead, there were more shelves meant for precious items such as instruments for magical detection. Unfortunately, they seemed to have been tossed about so much that they didn't look usable, though she would let Chandra know in case she would be interested in spare parts for her own machines should there be a second trip. The logbook was quickly found, but to her disappointment it was nothing more than a ledger to keep track of supplies. Still, she pocketed the the book and stepped outside.
By now, the wasps were ready inspecting the stairs to the upper decks and had marked a safe path up. Though safe was rather relative as the ship was slanted to one side and standing on the good spots meant quite a bit of hopping around. They found themselves on the orlop deck which fielded nothing of value and not a single clue. So after the wasps had secured a path to what seemed to be a deck with living quarters, the party headed upstairs. Nymphadora was just thinking on how well the ship was holding up under their collective weight when she got quite a fight.
The ship was open to the elements, the snap in half going right through a few cabins. And at the very edge of a steep drop to the crags and debris below, lay a frozen corpse.
"Shit," Nymphadora whispered and took a step back. She was caught just in time by Kirk before she could tumble back down the stairs to what was undoubtedly a hard fall.
"Careful," said the Kirk, to which Nymphadora gave an embarrassed nod.
The body lay prone and was, without a doubt, frozen solid and had been for years. The man lay sprawled on the deck, a pained terrified look forever etched on his frozen expression.
Chiputec shivered involuntarily. "Imagine being in this poor man's condition, trapped in a shipwreck with no protection from the cold."
Big-Mouth shook his helmeted head. "Cold didn't kill him," he said. "Look at the position of the body and the state he was in. If he was freezing, he'd be huddled into a ball or fully unclothed in case of paradoxical undressing due to hypothermia. No, this man was already dead before he froze."
"What killed him, doctor?" asked Kirk.
Big-Mouth studied the body briefly. "I'd have to bring the body on board the Kingfisher for an autopsy to be entirely sure, but considering the state and positioning of the body as well as the expression, I'd hazard an educated guess that the cause of death was acute blunt trauma."
"From when the ship crashed, you mean?" asked Nymphadora.
Kirk shook his head. "It just… doesn't add up," said Kirk. "Looking at the cove and the position of the wreck, the ship could have only end up this way if it had came upon this cove stern-first."
"So you're telling me… we're stood in the wrong part of the ship?" asked Nymphadora.
"Aye," said Chiputec. "Ships don't tend to sail backwards. It should have been the fore-section of the ship if it had crashed into the cove, not the stern. They were going full sail too, remember?"
Kirk inched to the edge of the exposed deck and regarded the debris outside. "From here, there's a good look at the debris and from the way it's spread out… If I didn't know any better," he said. "I'd say that the Orpheus had been lifted from the ocean and was then dropped into this cove from a great height."
"Couldn't a wave have picked up the ship and smashed it into the cove stern-first?" asked Nymphadora.
"Not this close to the island," said Kirk. "And that would have washed away the debris."
"Over a century of sea voyages and I have never seen anything like this, captain," said Big-Mouth. "And I've seen some strange things in my days."
"Don't tell me we're going to bring this corpsicle back to the ship," Nymphadora bit her lip.
"We're going to bring this corpsicle back to the ship," said Big-Mouth and Nymphadora could literally hear the smirk on his voice. "Chiputec, if you could please help me get this fine dead gentleman to the longboat?"
"Do it. In the meantime, Nymphadora and I will continue to search the ship," said Kirk while Chiputec grumbled a bit. As it turned out, the layout of the ship was different again. Unlike the Kingfisher, the crew deck was above the passenger deck. While Kirk remained to search the passenger deck's cabins, Nymphadora followed the two wasps up as they were done inspecting the next set of stairs. Once up there, she found the crew deck to be even more of an absolute mess than the passenger deck, though there were thankfully no more corpses lying about.
As Nymphadora moved deeper into the wreck, she noticed one of the doors was slightly ajar. When she pushed against it, it opened with a loud creak of protest. Immediately, Nymphadora was hit in the face with a gust of icy arctic air. This part of the ship had part of the hull missing, exposing it to the frigid elements of the Arctic winds. A shiver went through her and she was thankful for her parka and earmuffs.
Snow and icicles were abound in this room and being open to the elements had taken its toll. Slanted at this wreck laid, it took her a bit to steady herself. It wouldn't do to slide out of the hull right into the sharp crags which this corpse of a ship was nestled upon. Step by step, Nymphadora navigated the broken deck until she was reasonably sure she wouldn't end up taking a tumble after single misstep.
She kept an eye on the frozen ropes flapping about in the wind as she regarded the room. Some debris were piled up against the side of the hull, just near the large hole. A desk. This… might have been the captain's quarters once. She was about to call out that she had found something interesting when something caught her eye. A book, seemingly the ship's log, was lain there, sheltered from the icy snow by a jutting beam. Moreover, there was something else sticking out from the book.
A photograph.
A photograph of the ship's crew, perhaps? This was exactly the thing Captain Kirk was after.
Holding herself steady by folding a hand over the leg of a heavy table wedged against the hull, the slant of the ruined deck didn't help as she reached out for it, cursing herself for having arms just too short to reach.
And then she cursed herself again: she was a bloody witch and could just accio the damn thing! Nymphadora was going to do this after taking out her wand. Before she could manage, though, the found herself completely engulfed in darkness. It was sudden and all-encompassing and she found herself gripping the table even tighter as she stopped moving.
"Wha…" Nymphadora muttered, the dark mist stinging her eyes and her lungs. This was magic, no doubt about it, Someone had cast this around her. But who? She didn't see or hear anyone approach.
Even more suddenly, she felt something hard hit her throat. For a moment, she didn't realize what had happened. Had she walked into something while trapped in this darkness? It didn't take long for a horizontal line along the length of her throat started to feel very warm. She still didn't realize what had happened, even when warm liquid started to seep down her neck.
Panic set in when she could no longer breathe. A cry for help died on her lips as all she could manage was a strangled croak. Still engulfed in magical darkness, she fell to her knees and tumbled down to the deck into the cold snow, her body slamming painfully against the desk. Again she tried to breathe but was overcome with the sensation of drowning. Her parka was starting to become drenched with warm liquid, pressing down and sticking against her chest. Nymphadora tasted copper in her mouth and felt cold… so very, very cold.
Nymphadora was still in denial when the magical fog waned and gave way to the sight of red stained snow. She brought a shivering, mittened hand to her throat only to drench it with red.
Her throat had been cut.
Another call for help came out as a strangled croak. Desperation started to set in as her vision started to form black spots.
Wand. She needed her wand.
Red hot blood kept gushing from the wound as she tried to feel around: of course she had dropped the damn thing. She felt around weakly, finding only more snow. By now, the cold both inside and outside was starting to overtake her. Weaker and weaker, until she could barely move, barely see and barely hear the howling winds pounding against the wrecked hulk which was about to become her grave.
Thought jumped to her parents, to her nan, to Bellatrix, Tahki, Hermione. Family and friends. And Rilly most of all. To desperation about wanting to stay alive to see them again. But she simply had no fight left in her. With every beat of her ever-slowing heart, more of her blood was being pumped out of her body.
On the edge of awareness, she heard faint buzzing. The displacement of air. The tickle of antennae against her cheek.
"Wa… wan…" she croaked weakly. No breath left in her lungs. Blood still pumping out from the wound on her throat. The fight was literally being drained out of her, even how desperate she wanted to see Hermione again. Her brain screamed for air, her heart was running out of blood to pump.
And then, she felt it. Her wand being dropped into her hand. With all her remaining willpower, she folded her fingers around the handle and jerked her arm to jam the tip into the side of her neck. Curative magic flowed from her hand, focused on the tip of her wand and her neck. Some relief came over her, right before darkness claimed her.