Tyrant Rising

Chapter 2: That's What Hive Was Going to Say (Part 2)

Same Time,

Outskirts of Lambstead,

Lancashire

A bladed creature fell, letting off a horrible keening screech as its bones grew sharp spikes, tearing it apart from the inside. Nearby, several of its fellows were drawn together and compacted into a tightly packed ball of crushed chitin, broken bone, oozing blood, and stinking organs. A short distance beyond that, a trio of the ranged-weapon wielding beasts were consumed by malevolent flame, eating its way from their extremities inward until nothing was left but ash and a foul smell.

Needless to say, Bellatrix was displeased. And, unfortunately for the creatures, they were the vessel she chose to channel that displeasure into. According to Dumbledore's lackeys, the useless fodder that were currently acting as stress relief were hormagaunts and termagants, but it was the one called the Swarmlord that was the true focus of her rage. The beast not only had the temerity to attempt to kill her master, the great Dark Lord, but it had made her master displeased with her when she had attempted to aid him in his battle.

For now, she would satisfy herself with the Swarmlord's underlings that dared to think they could prevent her from carrying out her Lord's orders. And while she dearly wished she could vent her frustration on something a little more human, for the good of her master's noble purpose she would ensure that her subordinates left Lambstead safely. Afterwards, she would finally take Montague, make him believe he would be getting what he had lusted after for so long, and then torture him until he begged for the sweet mercy of death. The Dark Lord had never said she needed to keep them alive after they returned from the mission after all.

And, perhaps, once she was finished with Montague, she would begin work on Greengrass. It had been quite a while since she worked on a woman, and even longer since she considered letting someone actually get a taste of the delights she could offer. However, Greengrass had given her the chance to kill both her traitorous cousin and her filthy half-blood of a niece, and even though she had not been able to do so personally, the pair were trapped in the centre of a horde of bloodthirsty monsters that would be more than happy to do the work for her.

"Montague!" She snapped, enjoying the fact that the man still jumped at her voice, despite the presence of the hormagaunts and termagants. "How far until we reach the edge of the anti-apparition ward?"

In response to her question, Montague slowed, glancing down at the Divinator strapped to his wrist, which was currently displaying a small map of Lambstead overlaid in warning red to denote the reach of the wards.

"A hundred feet, Lady Lestr-AHH!" The respectfully worded reply devolved into a scream of agony as Montague was hoisted off the ground, skewered like a piece of roasted meat on the bladed arm of a 5-meter-long nightmare. It had a long, serpentine body, six arms, each ending in a sword-like blade, and a set of powerful jaws flanked by mandibles that were currently locking around Montague's weakly thrashing head.

"You filthy piece of pus-encrusted scum!" Bellatrix screeched, wand flashing up to point at the creature, there was no point trying to save Montague, he was as good as dead already. But that wasn't the point. The point was, she had wanted to unwind by killing him, and she had been ordered to get him out of Lambstead alive. This creature would pay for subverting her Lord's will. Even as she prepared to blow the beast to smithereens, however, two more of the foul creatures burst upwards from the ground, arms aiming to skewer Flint and Parkinson just as they had Montague.

Raveners. A voice whispered their name in her mind. She paid it no heed, instead, she whipped her wand around in a circle, conjuring a wave of concussive force that blew the two new raveners away from her remaining lieutenants and sent them smashing into walls. Then she levelled her wand at Montague's still weakly struggling form, with a savage grin, she fired a piercing curse straight through Montague's skull, pulping the brains of the ravener that had been holding him along with those of her former lieutenant. After all, the Dark Lord had said he had lost too many followers to these simple beasts, this way he hadn't lost any more to them.