Week 14: Winds change direction

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A chill wind swept in through the open window, just as the evening before this, and the evening before that, and so on and so forth. “Has it always been so cold in here?” came the slobbering question from the bedridden and decrepid old man. In these last few weeks, his condition had worsened, and as it did, all the old plagues had started to slip back. At first it was just a limp, then he had trouble standing up straight. Soon his lisp returned, his hunchback grew seemingly overnight, slobber started falling from his mouth, his mind started to leave him, and he began to talk about “old friends”, as if he ever had any. The last three days had been the worst, and his generals had been summoned all the way to Valesburg to see the end. Oris was dying.
Lord Ferrus was the first to speak, “Nevermind the cold, Voraci has not spoken to us in some time and you are dying. What are her orders?”
Lady Felicity stepped forward, spinning a dagger on her index finger, producing a small drop of blood, her eyes glowing with a seeming pleasure.
“That will not be necessary,” came the gruff tone as General Kelbourn reached out a mailed hand to block her way. “I doubt it would even work. His mind is rotting.”
“Who then shall succeed?” spoke a honeyed voice with an elvan accent. “Our lady keeps us waiting, and I begin to wonder if this is part of her plan.”
A silence passed through the four figures standing around the bedside. This wasn't the first time any of them had considered that possibility. Fear had kept them in line so far, but the closer Oris came to death, the less fear they felt, and the stronger their hunger became. 
At last Lady Felicity spoke, “Perhaps we could… hurry the process.” A wry smile passed her lips as she reached out slowly to hold the centennial's leg. This time, nobody stopped her. “Whatever great power once passed through this man no longer…” her words became screams as Oris’ arm shot out from its curled position under his head, snatching her hand and melting the flesh. The three other commanders quickly retreated a few steps while Lady Felicity screamed to the floor.
Oris finally released his grip, his hand dropping to the side of the bed, the light in his eyes dimming. Lady Felicity bit her tongue and brought her hand before her eyes. Skin, muscle, fat, tendons, all had melted off, staining her fine clothes in hues of red and orange. Small sections of white bone could be seen under the remaining flesh, glistening in the moonlight as she closed her hand into a fist and tucked it into a sleeve.
“Pretty… Lady…” came the wet whispers of the dying man. “Pretty…” and all was silent.
Lord Ferrus was the first to act, stepping back into a corner of the room and whispering an incantation. Lady Vivik drew steel and lunged for the Archmage, but a second too late - he disappeared without so much as a puff of smoke, and her blade met stone, jarring it from her hand.
Lord Kelbourn turned to Lady Felicity, hammer in hand, only to find her ready for him, her black bone dagger drawn in her mutilated hand. Kelbourn took a step back towards the door, keeping both women in front of him. “Does the great and mighty General Kelbourn fear me?” Lady Felicity said, her mocking tone turning to laughter. “Come now dear, with all that heavy armor, certainly you can take an unarmored woman with only a simple dagger to defend herself.”
Lord Kelbourn glowered, and lowered the visor on his great helm. Lady Vivik shifted her stance away from the window and towards the corner of the room where Ferrus had been. Kelbourn stole a glance at Vivik, an unspoken word crossed their eyes, and lept over the corner of Oris’ bed at Felicity. Felicity tumbled for the window as his crimson hammer turned to dust the stone where she had stood. Vivik took her chances, trying to close with Felicity before she could get to her feet, but the dark elf was too slow, and Lady Felicity slipped up behind her, bringing her dagger to Lady Vivik's neck.
Lord Kelbourn growled and shifted his weight. Lady Vivik dropped her sword to the floor, the color draining from her face and a look a fear overtaking her eyes. Lady Felcitiy let out a girly giggle and sang, “Kelbourn and Vivik, in the barn. Will the farmer catch them, where will they run? One shoe, one shirt, is that a gown? Kelbourn and Vivik what have you done?” as she shifted the two of them to the window.
“Name it, and it is yours,” croaked Lady Vivik.
“Where is the waystone?”
“Fort Kalimar. The--”
“NO!” Lord Kelbourn cried.
“- Skeleton King has it.” Lady Vivik finished.
Lady Felicity smiled, kissed Vivik on the neck and said pleasantly, “If you’re lying to me, I’ll make this,” she pressed the black bone dagger tighter against the Vivik's neck, “a certainty.” And with that, Lady Felicity leaned back and dropped out the window.
Lady Vivik fell to her knees, drawing a sharp breath. Lord Kelbourn stepped to her, tossing off his helm, and went down on one knee, embracing Vivik. His eyes closed as he inhaled long and slow through his nose, relishing the exotic scent of the dark elf. Suddenly his eyes widened and his muscles tightened. 
Lady Vivik drew her dagger out of Lord Kelbourn's back, and he slumped to the floor. “Do you think that I would let our little triste mean something? You are no General Morrow.” Lady Vivik picked up her sword, got to her feet and headed for the door, lingering just a moment. Lord Kelbourn rolled onto his back with a groan. “To be honest, I’ve had slaves that were better,” and with that, she walked out.
So softly that the warm evening wind drowned it out came the whisper from the bed, “At last, my friends…”
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