Hemlock Explains the Truth

“I beg your pardon?” Orla said, frowning as she turned to the necromancer. “What do you mean I’m not me?”

“That is not precisely what I stated,” Hemlock replied gravely. “I'm sorry, I understand this must be distressing for you.”

“Not just for her,” Reise said, a look of alarmed worry growing on his face. “I think you had better explain what the hell you're talking about.”

“Very well. I will try. As you may know, Orla is not a living thing in the traditional sense,” Hemlock explained. “She is a wondrous magical being, a sprite, a soul made flesh as opposed to flesh containing a soul. But what stands before us now is only a miniscule part of Orla. A flicker of her and no more. And that begs the question: where is she really?”

“I am right here,” Orla said exasperatedly.

Hemlock smiled gently. “No, you’re not. You think you're you, but that's because you probably have all of Orla's memories. You are an identical copy of her. A brilliantly constructed copy made from her very essence in a way that perhaps should be impossible, yet here you are.”

“You… you're telling us... she's a… m-magical construct?” Severos said skeptically, fighting another onset of shivers.

Hemlock nodded. “Yes, in a sense, and one that is the product of extremely advanced magic. Kelmoran is the only wizard I can think of who would be at all capable of such a feat.”

“As far as we know he's still trapped in the book,” Reise said, not liking where any of this was going.

“Then if not Kelmoran this could be the work of one of Aeran's gods,” Hemlock said. “That is the supreme level of magic that would have to be involved.”

“Supposing we believe all this, why would anyone make a duplicate of me?” Orla asked. “What purpose would it serve?”

Hemlock shook her head. “I have no idea, I only can tell you what I know and can see. You are still connected to Orla, but the connection is so weak that you are two parts of the same person.”

“I don't understand any of this,” Orla said, starting to get upset.

“It's okay, neither do I, but we're going to figure this out,” Reise soothed, putting a comforting arm around her. He could tell she was scared, and truth be told, so was he. This had been a very strange past few days, and now seemed to only be getting worse. Much worse.

Severos was not sure what to think. He looked upon his two very best friends in all the world. They had loyally stood by his side throughout his ordeal with the Mortith and he would do no less for them now. He raised his hands, casting a detect magic spell with shaking limbs. As expected, Orla lit up like a heavenly angel, as any of her fae elf race would under a magical scan, but then he spotted another sparkle of magical light that was strangely the very same as Orla's, shining from within Riese's coat. He reached inside the pocket and pulled out the amber crystalline stone the bearded halfling had given to Reise.

The silence was tangible between the four, save for Severos whose misery was palpable. He may have said he was cold and assuredly felt cold. The sweat drops falling from him said differently as he shook in the heavy coat. He forced his eyes to crack open, blurred eyes and manic need alighting on Hemlock.

This was not Orla? No, it had to be. The trials of what had happened two years ago had proved it. Even with the fog of dependence, a small cognitive part of his saner mind whispered that everything was not as it seemed and should never be assumed. It had been the first illusion lesson he had been taught, a truth that still held true to this day. Orla had been proven to be true, not a lie.

"O...rla…" he wheezed, unable to speak clearly. "War… fall… the Black-- Blackwood… Manor…" She leaned closer to him. He clutched at the coat with shaking hands. "Am… am… amulet…" A fresh wave of shaking came and he clenched his teeth. He very nearly bit his tongue.

“Wait, let me see that,” Hemlock said, walking over. She took the stone from Severos and turned it over in her hands. “This is a type of phylactery, but not like any I've seen before...”

“Isn't that the stone from the pendant Ceriden trapped Orla inside?” Severos said, remembering Horo showing it to him on the day they first met in Warfall.

“It is!” Reise exclaimed, slapping his forehead with his opened palm. “I knew it looked familiar, but that damned halfling must have scrambled my wits or something!”

Hemlock nodded. “Ah, I see now. This is a device constructed to trap and imprison fae elves. This Ceriden you speak of, is Ceriden Malkaan I presume?”

“Yes. He... he put me into that,” Orla murmured, huddling her shoulders.

“You have a dangerous enemy in him,” Hemlock remarked, holding the stone up to her good eye. “During the reign of Queen Thalia he became a wanted criminal, and he grew exponentially more dangerous after he achieved lichdom. Excluding Kelmoran, Ceriden Malkaan is surely the greatest necromancer of this age.”

“Tell us something we don't know,” Reise said impatiently.

Hemlock turned to him. “There is still much I do not understand, but I believe I know what has happened. Orla was improperly released from this artefact and some of her vital essence remained left inside. Someone used this residual life force to make a copy of Orla that would have been good enough to fool just about anyone.”

Severos managed to compose himself just enough to speak. “If this isn't Orla,” Severos asked, “then where is the real one?”

“Come hell or high water, that's what we're going to find out,” Reise growled, a very cold determination sliding over his boyish features. “Whoever is responsible for this, they have no idea what's coming for them...”

“You both believe all this? That I'm not the real Orla?” the apparent doppelganger asked, looking between Reise and Severos.

Hemlock stepped forward and smiled kindly at her. “I know like Orla, you have telepathic powers. I freely open my mind for you to look into it... to know the truth...”

The doppelganger accepted the invitation and probed the other woman's mind for a very long moment that seemed to stretch on forever, and then slowly she nodded her head in resignation and let out a heavy sigh. “'Tis true. All of it. I am naught but a magical facsimile...”

“You're more than that,” Hemlock said warmly. “You are the literal essence of Orla, what she will be all the stronger for when you are reconstituted with her.”

Reise shook his head at the stupid craziness of it all. A slow rage was beginning to boil within him, but he kept it in check and looked sympathetically at the doppleganger. “This explains a few things. Orla has been in something of a weakened state ever since she got out of that stone. She said Kelmoran banished her from that magic Fortress of the Mind place along with Ursa, which was somehow connected with the magic stone and the magic book and Ursa’s magic nightmare. Magic this and magic that. It was all so convoluted I didn't know what to make of it, and I didn't bother to try once Orla walked in through the door at House Blackwood. But now I realise I should have done some research so I could understand how she came back.”

“I— I mean, she— didn't fully understand either,” the Orla doppelganger said, frowning at what seemed like speaking of herself in the third person.

“Even I didn't fully understand what had happened, and I'm a Miekrannis-educated mage,” Severos said.

“None of you are necromancers,” Hemlock told them. “Only one proficient in that forbidden art of death, life and unlife manipulation could have fully comprehended all the complexities of what occurred. Sadly due to ignorance and persecution there are not many necromancers left any more. We are a dying breed.”

“Dying breed, is that a joke? I’m not in the mood for them,” Reise said, beginning to pace as his mind began to plan. “What I need from you, Hemlock, is a means to locate the real Orla, and I need it as fast as possible.”

“That’s a tall order, but the stone might be able to be used to home in on her unless she’s being magically shielded somewhere,” Hemlock said with cautious optimism.

“Just do what you can. She could be in a lot of danger so we need to find her fast!” Reise angrily pulled out the Scroll of Incarious that the lying, scheming halfing had given him and saw a note scrawled on the back he hadn’t seen before.

If you see this note, that means your friend is in deep trouble. Using this scroll I can transport you as close as I can for you to save her. And yes, it was me who made the doppelganger. I'll explain everything when we meet again, however I will let you know it was Orla's choice to leave you, although I guess it wasn't an informed choice as I did trick her. But if she had said no to what she thought was her deity's wishes I would have employed the doppelganger I made from Orla's borrowed life force, something I always intended to give back. I sincerely apologise for interrupting your little book search and you should know everything I did was for good reasons. Now go save your friend, if you can. We will certainly meet again, Wandering Dog. :)

It was signed KiW.

KiW? What the hell kind of name was that? The smiley face was infuriating and Reise had to resist tearing the scroll to pieces. Who was that little bastard? He closed his eyes and muttered to himself “In for three seconds...out for five...in for three…out for five…” After repeating this several times his eyes opened. “It is going to be very hard for me to not kill that thing the next time I see it.”

“Thing?” Severos asked.

“Yeah, the thing that took the halfling's form.” Reise breathed again. “Severos, Orla.” He ground his jaw. “I’ll need you to keep me in check.” There was an uncharacteristic coldness to his voice.

They both looked at him, but said nothing. Severos took the scroll into his shaking fingers and read the halfling’s note; anger crossed his face too. The Orla doppelganger looked down at her hands as if trying to come to grips with what she was exactly.

“I might be able to devise a way for you to track down the Mortith,” Hemlock offered, taking out her knife. “I just need a drop of your blood, Severos.” She held out a hand waiting for him to place his hand in hers. He hesitated for only a second. When she took it she made a small prick on his middle finger and taking out a small metal tuning fork from her satchel, she smeared the blood across it, muttering an incantation the whole time. “This should help you find the book,” she said. “Just tap it on his forehead and hold it up. It will vibrate more if you are going the correct direction. I wish I could give you something that would take you right to it, but sadly I cannot. I am not that powerful. As far as Orla, that may be even more difficult.”

“Not for me, I think I have an idea.” Reise dug into his bag. “Here,” he said, taking out small wrapped packages about the size of a matchbox. “Pemmican. It’s nutrient dense and will fill you up fast, Severos. There is meat in that Orla, so you may not want to eat it if you're feeling hungry, if you can feel hungry that is. Now don’t any of you bother me for a bit. I need some time to work on this,” he said, taking the stone and several small items from his pack, one of which was clearly a compass and a few other strange odds and bobs that were less recognisable.

Severos watched Horo march away. He turned to Orla, sweat dripping down his nose. "It seems we are… um, ah all deceived. But do you know what? There is a silver lining." She looked to him and he finished, "I still would call no one else friend like you. You are every bit as real as there can be… Take it from… from a transmutist…"

“Thank you, that is kind of you to say,” she replied, her fey eyes warmly looking into his, and she knew that he meant what he said about them still being every bit friends, even as he hinted at a good point as well. Transmutation was the conversion of particles from one object to the particles of another, and something unneeded in her case since she was already the exact same stuff as Orla, just not all of her.

“I will see about relieving your symptoms now,” Hemlock said to Severos, walking off to the other side of the room for a moment.

“If she said no to what she thought was her deity's wishes,” Orla read aloud from the halfling's note, “I would have employed the doppelganger...”

“Employed you for what?” Severos wondered weakly.

Orla compressed her lips and frowned in thought. “I remember dreaming something before I woke to find the halfling in our camp. I vaguely recall that I... I was about to go to my old garden in Opra Dale...”

“Opra Dale? That was destroyed in the war of the Two Kingdoms.”

“Yes, it was. I was actually there when the city was being destroyed by the Timber Crag. So was Reise, when he was Horo. The first Horo that I knew. There was a terrible moment when a rock from a catapult seemed to hit him and we thought he was killed, but he somehow got out of the way at the last possible second.”

“Sounds like him,” Severos said, shivering. “What about your garden?”

“Miss Xaudler, the Avatar, told me not to worry about it,” Orla said, wishing so much that her old mentor was here now. “After the war I-”

“Enough talking, please. To do this right I will need silence,” Hemlock said before kneeling down beside Severos. “Hold still, and I will temporarily relieve your symptoms so you are better able to help save your missing friend.”

She began the magical ritual, which they all knew would be no more than a palliative at best for the necromantic illness that had the poor young mage in its deathly grip.

After a few minutes of drawing strange glyphs in the air, Hemlock quickly grabbed a nearby bucket. Knowing Severos was about to release colugulated bile, a concentration of the evil in his body into a physical substance rather than energy. It was usually a thick black tar like substance. And she’d rather it not be all over the floor of the one building standing enough to call home.

And it did.

The urge to release such foul magics was all too overwhelming. The mage was a foul fountain of evil for all of a few seconds. Severos found the experience relieving but the worst feeling ever in his life. Black ink dribbled down his chin, evaporating in the contact with air. He gasped and gripped the bucket, the sludge inside steaming in faint tendrils to nothingness.

Mind over Body. Body over Spirit. Spirit over Mind, Severos thought clearly for the first time in weeks. He steadied himself and slowly rose. He stumbled slightly but corrected himself with gestures of ease to the two. He stood with his own will.

Severos glanced between the two, patting his chest. "How long do I have?" he asked, relieved to hear his voice had returned to normal.

Hemlock tapped on his balled up hand. “Eat that block Reise gave you,” she told him “But I cannot say for sure how long. You might deteriorate fast if you use too much magic, but might not.” She gave an unsure look. “I never truly studied the act of raising the dead or binding souls other than my own. This magic is all theoretical to me. Perhaps if any of Kelmoran's old students were still around they could be more helpful. If you do not make it to the book in time, or feel you are slipping again, do not waste time in seeking me out again though. I will do what I can. It is my duty to ensure souls are able to pass as intended, and not end up as something else.”

Severos looked to Orla with a hopeful glance before looking firmly back. Then, with a slow glance down, he began to eat the small brick. It tasted of something hearty and peanuts. "I know exactly how I have become this. That damned sphinx damaged the seals upon the Mortith. I suspected it when the voices began," he said. He looked once again with a full mouth. "Cam oo ent amee oisis?"

Can you sense any voices? Orla's mind translated. She shook her head no.

It wasn’t long after they finished the purging ritual that
Reise came back over. “Are you both ready to go?” he asked, picking the scroll up. Severos and Orla stood and both nodded.

“Good, let’s be off.” Reise gathered his things and Hemlock stepped up.

“I am coming as well.”

“The more the merrier,” Reise said, not sounding at all merry as he activated the teleportation spell on the scroll. In a flash of light they soon stood back at Soldor’s battered Bastion.

Reise raised a small device he had cobbled together that had the amber stone mounted on it and scanned the area. There was no trace of the real Orla. Not even a tiny blip. He closed his eyes, “Strike two and three,” he muttered in a stifled growl. “Just as I figured…”

Seeing his anger that the lying halfling had tricked them yet again, Hemlock grabbed Reise’s head in her hands, her palms on his temples. “Zeig ihnen deine Reißzähne reisender Hund,” she whispered in his ear. Show them your fangs Traveling Dog.

Reise's only response was an angry nod. He would not just show his fangs, he would rip their freaking faces off!

“I must speak to Lord Soldor, I wish you luck,” Hemlock said, parting ways. She went down the hall in the direction of the nobleman's study as the rest of the group made for a closer doorway, using Reise’s own unique means of travel that was by no means reliable, but was entirely his own.

(Co-post with Thaen and Rosmary. The halfling's note written by Ender. Sorry for the wait on this)