The Rewards Of Reboot.

How much do you know about something as simple as a transistor? What about a neuron? The two things are more similar than you might realize. In fact, our brains share a comparable quality to an electronic device is some aspects. Let's consider this for a moment, shall we?

A transistor is a basic device that that in its most primitive form only allows things to flow through it in one direction. Depending on how it is implemented it can act as a switch or as an amplifier of sorts. Taken together in large groups transistors are actually what make up the memory component an electronic device uses to store all the things it needs to remember.

Starting to sound familiar? Without trying to teach you an entire class on the subject, let's just establish that it is in transistors that all those ones and zeroes exist as either off or on. It is the most basic building block of any electronic device we have ever devised.

So, how does that compare to neurons then? Neurons are the biological equivalent of the transistor. Within our minds, billions of neurons mimic the way billions of transistors work in a device. Signals are transmitted through them, things are stored and the overall collective result is a complex array of neural activity that we call intelligent thought or memory.

And just like in an electronic device something has to keep cycling through all those tiny transistor-like things to keep them all alive and active. If you turn the power off from an array of transistors they can 'forget' any information that they had stored inside them. Take the memory inside your computer for instance or the radio in your car. Disconnect the battery or unplug it from the wall and anything that was stored there is gone.

Now, that doesn't mean that other forms of storage doesn't exist to keep up with things that are needed for long term retention. If we go to sleep we do not forget our names or how to walk. Just like every time we turn our car off it doesn't forget what time was on the clock. That stuff stays stored ( in the car's case that bit is true as long as the battery isn't drained).

But let's say for instance there is some damage to transistors or our neurons for instance. Perhaps something get's loaded into them in the wrong order or, due to a hiccup isn't stored at all. What could happen then? There are any number of resulting effects that could come from it. It could be from us having a stroke that damages a segment of our neurons. We might have something 'misfire' so to speak. Whatever the cause it can leave us - much like an electronic piece of technology to become best described as malfunctioning.

So what do we do?

The answer is so simple that we generally overlook it. We reboot.

When we shut a machine down, we empty it of all those temporary stored values. We dump out every transistor of any electric current flowing in it and let it all return to its base state. As it comes back on it is them reloaded with the right values to begin anew. If anything was mixed up before it has by the very process of rebooting become reset.

Every single night when we close our eyes and go to sleep we give our brains that very chance of doing the same thing. It can in essence reboot itself, resetting a whole array of abnormal neurons, resting overworked areas and allowing things to renew itself. Too tired to remember clearly? Get some rest. Everything feeling foggy as you try to concentrate or think about something? Perhaps some sleep is in order.

For me I have a unique outlook on which to grant me perspective. Sometimes my own internal transistors get all twisted up - often by the very act of sleeping. Its as if instead of storing the right values things get shorted out. In time even my mind can sort it all back out but often enough the best thing for me to do is to simply allow myself to reboot. We take so much for granted about the magical marvels our bodies are capable of - much like we do technology.

Next time there is trouble give rebooting a try and then enjoy its rewards. Just try and appreciate some of what is going on behind the scenes to make those wonders work for you.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 21.

Stane had never been much on sleeping when everyone else expected him to. He also had a natural disposition for maintaining a routine of rigid discipline. That’s how I knew that before the sun had even risen into the sky he would be up and exercising. Stane Stormaxe wasn’t known for being able to abandon his personal patterns.

Like clockwork he would rise while twilight still ruled the realm and set about swinging his broad-bladed axe. I knew the number and order his strikes would fall against those shadow-sparring shapes. I knew it well because I used to be at his side doing the same.

We had spent many an early morning by each other’s side practicing, honing ourselves endlessly. We had also spent many of those nights sleeping just as sparsely so that we needed the activity to help us clear our heads. In some ways it was a part of my past that I did miss. It was nice having someone to spend time with, someone you could count on.

Times change though; I changed. After I appealed to be released from service, it was mutually understood that our interactions would come under scrutiny. As a freelance SpellHound, any fraternization with a former peer could be seen as attempts to influence others to join me. There were those that might even charge me with manipulation, abuse of trust to call on official resources; any number of things. It was in both our interests to simply forgo any form of continued friendship and consign ourselves to being past associates.

I also couldn’t rule out the lingering chance that Stane might have taken it personally that I had chosen to leave. He was the kind of guy who took his duty very seriously. Stane had been deeply honored to serve; it was his greatest source of pride. And when the two of us had worked together we were exceedingly effective. His axe was as steadfast as any shield and twice as treacherous as a rocky ledge.

Glitch and I shuffled to a stop as I watched my old colleague block an imagined blow from above against the flat of his axe. I had to smile to myself because it was like replaying a fond memory in your mind as I looked on. Next he would seize upon the second of stunningly stopped steel to slam the head of his axe forward into his foe before twisting to roll aside from the released resistance against the weapon held over head.

In a real fight it wasn’t a guaranteed course of action. If your opponent managed to anticipate the attack they could sidestep, retreat from the surprise, or even twist their steel to seek his exposed back with swipe. That was just Stane’s style though; he fought like a raging storm. He left nothing back and he moved like a wildly whirling wind. When his axe slammed into you broadside you felt like a peal of thunder had collided through you. And if he axe’s edge cleaved past your defenses you would swear a surge of lightning had struck.

Patiently I timed our approach for a few moments more. Waiting for his cycle to end from one set into the next I drew my own sword and prepared for the opening I knew would present itself. I caught it when he grunted and whipped his axe to the side in an arc that would have carried with it any weapon that had been on its way towards him.

At that precise point I rushed forward and brought my blade up in a sharp thrust from his opposite side and a hiss escaped him. “En garde,” I greeted him playfully, using our time honored tradition of opening a friendly practice duel. Our old ritual remained remembered between us, and he answered habitually with his customary reply.

“Thanks for the warning,” Stane quipped, then raised his axe in salute. I returned the gesture and then quickly had to roll myself into a block that prevented his axe from sweeping my feet out from under me. “Still fast on your feet, I see,” my old practice partner commented as he withdrew to a defensive position.

This was how it would have to be, I decided. If I wanted to have a chance to talk anything over with Stane it would be between singing steel. There was two times when Stane could be found more inclined to speak his mind; one of them was with a tankard in his hand. Considering I had little desire to potentially repeat my most recent experience in the land of liquid refreshments I ruled that option out. That left me with its alternative; while Stane held his axe in his hands instead.

“Came for a chat, Stane,” I admitted while pivoting on one foot to twist around a crushing chop that carried more momentum than I wanted to challenge currently. “Need to ask you about something strange I stumbled into, thought maybe you might have heard a whisper or three that might help me understand where it could have come from.”

My shoulder paid for a lapse in my attention as Stane tapped it with the side of his axe using just enough effort to make me take the hit seriously. It wasn’t unusual for us to pull our punches to keep things civil, but neither of us had ever blinked at bruises or cuts before. I didn’t expect him to start now either. In his less than subtle way I took the message for what it was intended to tell me. I needed to keep my guard up unless I wished to have trouble walking away later. Stane may not slay me in a sparring match, but maiming me because I wasn’t giving him my best effort was a different matter entirely.

Flinching I dismissed the spreading sensation of numbing nerves that I knew would pass in time and adjusted my grip with my other hand. “Here I thought you were stopping by because you had found yourself growing slow and out of shape,” he chided. Another axe swing angled in to take aim at my neck and I rushed to raise me own steel to stop it. But I knew his tricks as well as he did, and already had guessed that the attack was just a distraction.

Once his axe rang against my own rigid weapon I marked the muscles in his shoulder tighten as his left hand flew forward to deliver his fist to my face. My hips twisted and my left leg followed suit to draw me into a sideways stance instead of facing my fist slinging foe. As his knuckles sailed just in front of my nose, I let my knee explode upward and it met an unsuspecting stomach. A mixture of a groan and emptying air erupted in response.

“That one is new,” Stane moaned breathlessly. Despite the appearance of my opponent being beaten, I wouldn’t get anywhere with Stane if I dropped my guard. He was a veteran warrior who prized skill in his peers as well as in his self. But when he let his axe fall from his grasp I couldn’t help but have second thoughts that I might have provided more harm than intended.

It was exactly the kind of reaction he had hoped to find me with and I didn’t have the time to respond. With both his hands free he launched himself up towards me. A steel buckled bracer on his forearm clanked against the metal of my blade and batted it aside. His other hand clasped my throat in an iron grip and the impact carried us to the ground.

My sword arm was pinned between dirt and the weight of Stane’s frame, my throat likewise imprisoned by an unrelenting pressure. “New… too…” I managed to choke out in between uncomfortable gulped attempts for air. Stane sat on top of me just long enough to leave me a moment of doubt before his mouth could no longer repress a broad friendly grin.

Chuckling he released his hold and rose back up, the absence of his weight at once welcoming. I coughed to appease my body’s demands for clear avenues for oxygen and Stane was dusting his pants off with informal slaps of his hand. “You forgot the golden rule,” Stane declared while I sheathed my sword and returned myself to the upright world.

“Yeah, I know,” I confessed with a little more defeat in my tone than I cared to hear. The golden rule of any fight we had long ago decided was a simple, yet all too easily overlooked one. It lies in understanding that even an unarmed foe still has weapons to make use of. They had their minds, arms, legs, head, elbows, knees – an entire body as well as the environment. Even a talented tongue can be a capable of turning the tide in a fight.

It was a lesson that I remember teaching Stane in one of our first practice fights. Irony must be really having a field day with me lately. “Well done,” I congratulated my former colleague and gave him a bow of my head in salute.

“What manner of curiosity has caught your attention this time that brings you here,” Stane asked as he retrieved his axe and began inspecting it for any nicks. I rubbed at my own shoulder and neck trying to ease the remaining soreness while he wasn’t looking. We were both male, I was certain that when my back was turned he would admit to his mid-section being sore as well.

“Found this strange old artifact that was being used to warp all magical traces around it,” I explained. “Had it examined and some of what we found didn’t make a lot of sense. Figured maybe if anything like it had popped up lately you would be the guy to see who might have heard something. You Interdictors all like to brief each other after a battle on things to keep an eye out for.”

Stane hadn’t looked back up yet, nor had he made any move to comment on what I had said. So I decided to press forward just a little more. Either he really didn’t know anything that could help, or I was going to need to provide a bit more bait to hook the information out of him. I couldn’t blame him if he was hesitant about potentially providing a no longer trusted fellow member among the SpellHounds with information.

As a freelance SpellHound now, I was sure some might expect me to simply be digging for anything that I could use for fast coin or perhaps they thought I had legitimately be involved in illicit dealings. Who knows, but Stane had been a friend before, if he was going to be tempted to put himself on the line I needed to at least give him some reason to step towards making that decision.

“Come on, it’s me,” I reaffirmed. “You’ve known me long enough to know I wouldn’t come seeking favors frivolously. I came across an amulet of amber Stane; the thing almost left me unable to sniff out anything around it. When we dug into it further we found the kind of aged arcane working that is virtually unheard of anymore. That kind of stuff doesn’t just appear out of nowhere, we both know that.

Have you seen or heard anything that could be connected?” Something in my words must have stirred Stane, because when he looked up at me there was a struggle behind his eyes. His face pulled tight into a frown and I could read the conflicting emotions written there. Stane had always been firmly rooted to a personal foundation of being a man of either offense or defense. Any course of action that required a mixed approach or called on weighing multiple options was the type of burden he hated to bear.

On the one hand I could presume he had his understanding of me and my reasons for coming to him. Yet on the other I could only guess at what might be making him mull over whether to tell me what he may or not. Had been ordered not to divulge any working knowledge to anyone outside the ranks of royal service? I wouldn’t put it past the throne to have issued such an edict. But that just didn’t feel like the answer to me.

“What is it Stane,” I tried to redouble my efforts at ingratiating myself, trusting our bond was still strong enough to purchase me that much influence at least. “I could really use the help on this one. I’ve already been shot at, a girl has had her mind shattered – her mother slain, her father beat near to death in his own home and her nephew that she took in to raise witnessed it all. I promised them I would get to the bottom of this and that deceitful device is my main clue currently. Anything you can tell me would be a treasure. Not only that, but I’d owe you a big one.”

I stopped myself short of any further speech, seeing Stane’s eyes narrow and his hands grip his axe as it was brought to bear beside him in a position of readiness. Instead of centering his attention on me I noticed his aim was past me, over my shoulder and beyond. A lone figure had appeared cast in the first rays of dawn that cloaked any identity from us. But something was in his raise hand and drawn back ready to take flight.

In a single fluid jerk it sailed into the early morning sky towards us and a muffled cry came with it – cut off immediately by the thud of two tarnished throwing blades imbedding themselves into his neck and torso. I only had a split second to track the source of the slung steel back to Glitch who had already drawn another duo of daggers held ready to throw again.

“Heads up,” my gremlin gadgeteer called out in warning. Without any idea of what was hurled our way I reached for my sword and slipped it free once more. I already knew Stane had his axe to hand and ready so I wasn’t worried about him. A part of me was pleased at the aspect of standing by his side in a scuffle again. Let what may come and do its worse; thanks to Stane I had already been warmed up for further fighting.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 20.

I never expected Glitch to remain at my place while we rested. I was even more surprised by his choice of sleeping arrangements. It isn’t like I have a hefty amount of options available to offer or anything. But somehow he had managed to repurpose my makeshift storage space that had been fashioned from an old net into a sling that dangled from the walls. Already his small frame was found swaying slightly as he drifted to sleep in his little slumber-sling.

Not wanting to waste time trying to let my wheels keep spinning, I climbed into my own cot and crashed. Dreams drifted toward me in that weird detached measure of moments that defies description. Had I been asleep for a minute, or was it hours? There is just no real reference available when you walk the realm the sandman.

Tendrils of twilight flicked and formed into a strange series of shapes. A path of purplish black congealed underfoot from flowing fog. The area around me seemed to shape itself into something between slate stone and a soft blue sky. This weird world was some mutable mixed up parody of the waking one. But then again – I suppose that is the essential essence of our dreamscapes.

As I walked along the landscape laid out before me by my unconscious mind I began to become aware of other things also on the move. There was the distant presence of bizarre beasts stalking through the shadows alongside a hushed tone of strangers speaking. I couldn’t make out much; just enough to give me the impression that things were out there.

This may not be my real body, but there is a certain required reality based response your mind demands even in dreams. To that end, every muscle I had tensed up in anticipation of an attack. My pace slowed to a more cautious one and all of a sudden I found my short sword’s steely strength lending its support to my hand. Whatever else I might meet here in the midnight of my mind wasn’t going to find me easy prey I decided.

But despite my expectations, no enemies presented themselves. My surroundings shifted continually, wisps of whimsy turning walls into water and my path became sand-choked shores. “Why are they gone,” a voice marked by youthful years still too soon to know maturity cried out. “Why did they leave us,” another pleaded passionately. As I tried to find any faces to match to the questions I found myself denied everywhere I looked.

“What are we supposed to do,” something else said. This time it traveled to me from somewhere to my rear and I resisted the urge to spin about and seek its source out. Instead I tried to train my ears towards it and focused on figuring out where or what it could be.

This isn’t real; I tried to reinforce that fact to myself. I needed to ground myself with the knowledge that I was asleep and that this was just a dream. But another issue with being inside of a dream is the blurring of being able to discern what is real and what isn’t. The longer I lingered in this surreal setting the more I was struggling to set the two things apart.

“You’re alone and afraid,” the stranger declared next. Now it was starting to sound older, a male depth to its tone. “There are things you don’t think you can deal with but there is also more to your mettle than even you have yet grown to understand. The best advice you can take to your heart is to learn what to hold on to and what to let pass through you. If you cling to too much in this world it can eat you up. But some thing’s can be beneficial if you bend them to your needs – even if only briefly.”

There was a specter of familiarity to those words, a reminder in how they resonated through me. I had the distinct impression that I had heard them before, or at the very least something similar. But through the distorted haze of dream I couldn’t clearly make out where. The pieces were there I just couldn’t find what framework to fit them into.

Without warning the maze-like mists vanished to leave me once more alone. A jolt of electric fire exploded through me and I gasped for air recoiling from it. When I did I found myself sitting upright in my bed again and blinking in an effort to banish blurred vision. The details of my dream were already falling away from me like finely ground sand clutched in your hand. However enough remained, just a fragment really that allowed me a smile.

The image of my Father formed in my mind, called forth from the imperfect memory of childhood. His features weren’t as clear to me as they once were – I couldn’t recall if his eyes had been a shade of platinum or blue-grey for one. Yet even if I couldn’t remember every detail of how he looked, his wisdom still remained etched into me. When he spoke to me, I listened longing to absorb any lore he offered. I had often dreamed of growing up wanting to be half the man he seemed to be to me.

Those words had been some of the last he had bestowed on me. Why had they been dredged up to return to me now? Maybe some part of me was trying to debate turning over everything I had found and dropping the case. I’m no expert on how people think, so I guess that is one possibility. However, I do know enough to say that it just isn’t in me to leave a trail no matter how dangerous or difficult. Once I get on the scent, I have to see it to the end. And now I had a scent to go on.

My Father had never wasted his words though, so I kept his counsel close to my heart and swore to myself to keep it under consideration. One look outside told me it was still dark; so it was either really late or very early. I wasn’t entirely sure which. But, judging by the hanging moon overhead that was situated low and to the west I was inclined to lean towards the later.

I needed more to go on, I decided. The amber amulet had provided me with a precious piece of evidence to use in my pursuit of the problem. But even if I planned on pacing back and forth all over creation trying to sniff something more out it wasn’t wise to presume that it would immediately point me in the right direction. It helped tremendously to have some scent to compare or simply look for, but I needed more to go on.

What I needed, I realized, was someone on the front lines of fighting malicious magic. Odds were fair that if something old and powerful was being put to use it would come under the attention of an Interdictor. They were experts at defending against magic and made it their job to keep their selves well versed in potential threats.

It wasn’t exactly a guaranteed payoff that if I reached out to the one Interdictor I used to associate with that he would be able to help (or willing). But I had to try, it only made sense that if something dangerous had been used that one of peers would have spread word of warning about it amongst them. Besides, Stane had never been known for having an axe to grind against anyone. Although, ironically enough the axe was his preferred weapon in almost any fight.

“Come on, Glitch,” I announced as my feet hit the floor. “We need to get to work and we’re wasting time.” When I looked up my eyes met with an empty web-work of weathered netting, now absent of the sleeping shape of the gremlin resting there not long ago. “Where has he gotten off to now…?” I asked myself aloud. A pair of pale pink eyes popped up out of the corner of my eye and startled me in reply.

“Right here,” he declared dutifully. “And where are we off to at such an early hour, if I may ask Master Spell-Sniffer?” I leveled my best disapproving scowl his way, which he somehow didn’t seem to notice.

“You know, you don’t have to call me that,” I pointed out. “I do have a name, after all; you are welcome to use it.” Glitch didn’t even grin back at me. “I know,” he admitted automatically. A groan gurgled up and out of me as I tried to deal with the growing feeling of becoming exasperated.

“Alright, let me put it another way,” I changed course and bluntly addressed my point. “My name is Nathanial Vaen; not ‘Master Spell-Sniffer.’ Please, do me the courtesy of calling me by name instead. I am the one paying you after all.”

Glitch cocked his head from side to side as he seemed to be considering my request. “But, are you not a spell-sniffer of some skill,” he asked me. I suppose he had me there, so I nodded in the affirmative. “Isn’t that a fitting title to refer to you as their superior by someone in your employment?”

“I guess I hadn’t thought of that,” I conceded casually. “Listen, Glitch, if you’re going to be working with me you have to understand I may be paying you but you don’t have to think of me like your boss. I’ll call you Glitch and you can call me by my name. It’s perfectly fine, don’t worry.”

“Whatever you say Master Spell-Sniffer,” Glitch agreed with a soft smile. I doubted I would ever win this war of words, so I dropped the matter entirely. “To answer your question,” I changed the subject back to where I had tried to begin. “We’re going to go see someone on the forefront of fighting fell forces. He might be able to help us make heads or tails of where something like that amber amulet might have found its way into Emberhelm.”

“He knows you’re coming,” Glitch queried. “Nope,” I fired back. “But I know he’ll be up and it’s the best chance to catch him with a minute to talk. So let’s get ready and be on our way.” Once more a puzzled look was waiting for me.

“Already prepared,” Glitch announced. “We’re just waiting on you, Master Spell-Sniffer.” One of these days, I promised, I would persuade that gremlin to stop calling me that. Still grumbling I grabbed my things and started throwing them on. Next time I hire a helper, I think I’ll have some form of ground rules agreed to before hand.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 19.

“Alright,” Glitch advised with an aura of authority. “This is very important, so listen well.” He had hurried back with an incredibly well worn satchel bag of leather that was more patches and stitching than anything else. The package was placed by his side just before he started to pace in a circuit that took him back and forth before me.

“What I am about to do is tedious and tricky. Working my way into the core that was crafted for this thing is delicate business. You’ll need to provide me plenty of space and as much concentration as you can. So; stay back. Don’t interrupt me or make any sudden movements. But most importantly; once I have secured the sample it’ll only be able to maintain its magic fleetingly once removed. There won’t be any time to spare, so once you can sense it in any way you’ll need to commit as much about it as you can to memory. I can’t guarantee I’d be able to perform the same procedure a second time – in fact this could be a single attempt scenario.”

Glitch gathered a handful of tinker-tools to himself from the satchel and then laid an old oil cloth out before him. Gently he laid the solidified sap down onto the cloth and took a deep breath. “You ready,” he asked me solemnly.

“Yep,” I answered him with all the eloquence I could muster at the moment. The gadget-savvy gremlin turned to focus his attention on the amber and I was left to try and anticipate what manner of danger he might have been implying about. Surely it couldn’t explode or engulf my home in spellcrafted flames… right? I mean, he must have meant that he might merely break the tiny trinket and then be unable to fix it. Yeah, that had to be it I tried to console myself. But I wasn’t buying it. So I took as silent of a step as I could backwards and tried to remain quiet.

The only sounds to hear was Glitch humming a soft tune and the tiny rhythmic clicks of his tools. Methodically he probed at the perimeter of his target and systematically set himself into whatever strategy he had formulated. It was all gibberish to me as I watched. But as he worked his own brand of magic, my ears perked up and my toes twitched.

Something was stirring from deep inside the diminutive device; it was just beyond the edge of my senses. It was almost akin to feeling something was on the move in the night when you were in the forest without being able to see of hear it. Whatever the little gremlin was doing, it was having some kind of impact. My pulse improved its pace a step toward a light hammering.

Glitch’s face had become a blank and barren thing, bereft of any expression or sign to guide my understanding. I hated having to set there and stand by, especially while being basically blind. While Glitch worked at untangling the mysterious magical threads that had been intricately woven into the amber, I wrestled with trying to discern between my imagination and my instincts.

Slowly sweat began to bead its way down Glitch’s brow as his efforts took their toll on his body. This must be a different kind of strain, one just as tiring as running down a rogue ruffian but in another way. It could take an untold amount of time to invest in magically manufacturing a trinket such as this. Glitch was trying to delicately disassemble it in a mere fraction of that – all while doing it without damage. The latter part was probably the most difficult, especially for me since I had concerns what kind of repercussions that could take.

Then the room around us started to darken as the light itself seemed to be consumed by whatever hungered at the heart of the amulet. I risked a quickly cast glance aside to check on the reactivated spellcrafted security system Glitch had installed and found it was acting oddly as well. The softly shimmering silver glow it gave off pulsed with a thrum that deepened and paled. Conjured crafted forces flowed from it all around the room and made me feel like I was standing in a rising tide that would soon leave me in need of swimming.

What had he said about how he predicted the amber amulet might be being made to function? I tried to recall his little lecture of conjecture but the only thing that stood out was some notion about it pulling in other arcane energies to twist them into powering its altering of perceptions. Should I disengage the guardian gadget? Glitch had been quite clear that I was not to take any action that might interrupt his efforts or concentration. But what if the magic of one object might have some unforeseen reaction on the other that even Glitch hadn’t anticipated?

Hesitation hovered over my heart as I weighed what option might be the more optimistic of the two. Do I stay my hand and risk some spell-fueled calamity or do I take the gamble and potentially spark off something that could create some destructive disaster all its own. The rippling power palpitated into even greater ranges that went from near fading to brilliant beams of bright moonlight. Flares of starfire seized on my stress and tipped the scales of my judgment enough to force me into action.

I could hear a rising roar of raw rushing arcane energies as I reached to touch the tiny gizmo. In response to my fingertips it hummed with the firm feeling of a foundation that had been built to withstand impressive attempts against influence. Obediently it answered my implied command to collapse its active awakened attentions and returned to a sleeping state. And as the wildly fluctuating forces failed, a fiery hiss of hellish frustration erupted from the center of the room.

My head snapped around so fast that my neck screamed in objection to the sudden assault of self-inflicted discomfort. Glitch was still seated in a huddled hunch over the tiny trinket his full focus had been trained on. As if it punctuated his proclamation of pain, a puff of spellcrafted essence rolled up into the air.

There wasn’t any time to process what error in judgment I might have just become responsible for having caused. Launching myself forward I closed the distance towards it as rapidly as I could and threw every available aspect of my attention into memorizing it. The smell of it was the ambiguous aroma of a warm spring morning of moss still drizzled with dew. To my eyes it was a mixture of mildly mellow green’s, gold’s, and earthy browns that was brimming with the light of life. My ears delighted in the departing song of nature’s nurturing with only a faint hint of heralded hazards.

It was nearly too far faded to pick out but there was an element to it that couldn’t completely marry itself to the melody that had been made for it. Just as fast I heatedly hurried to commit every detail down I had to struggle against it slipping away. Desperately I clung to all the information that I could keep fresh in my mind and fought to form it as a clear image. But even as I did, things were trailing away. Only vague vapors were left to linger with me to make the moment bittersweet at best.

Defeated and disappointed, Glitch sat slumped for a split second as I assumed he was already trying to examine what could have gone wrong with his efforts. In a matter of moments he seemed to reach some conclusion that explained everything and spun to stare at me. Those pale pink eyes had taken on a vibrant almost violent life to them as he pinned me down with them.

“What did you do,” he demanded viciously. His eyes narrowed to hone in on me as he probed into me for an answer. “Didn’t I ask you to be patient, to not interrupt me? I almost had a good clean sample to draw out and hold long enough for us to examine. And right as I start the process of pulling it out something caused everything to come crashing down. The core is crashed, worthless and wasted. That little glimpse was all we’ll ever see!

So, please, do tell me; what were you able to accomplish that granted us this grand gift?” My own shame had started to solidify a feeling of sheepishness as I considered what I had done. “All I did was turned your little gadget guard off…” I muttered. “At least nothing terrible happened. We’re still here and my home isn’t a pile of pieces.”

“You could have started a chain reaction,” Glitch exclaimed with a wild wave of his arms. “As long as it had a steady source to supply it, I was able to work my way around. But once you shut off there was nothing to flow in and keep everything intact around what I was doing. There is no telling what could have occurred!”

“But it didn’t,” I countered with a returning grin forming on my face. “We could have…” Glitch tried to continue arguing, but I cut him off with another satisfied smile. “And yet we are fine! See, Glitch, everything and everyone is alright.”

He blinked at me as that detail sunk in. It probably had to work its way around all manner of complicated scenarios and estimated evaluations of things that could have all occurred. My guess was that Glitch had been so concerned with such things that the simple truth had been overlooked. Thankfully, we were both still alive and I didn’t have to start looking for another place to live. Although, I did have to concede that I couldn’t rule out any fast thinking on Glitch’s part wasn’t somewhat responsible for our safety.

“Good work,” I congratulated him with an accompanied pat on the back. The blow jarred him slightly and seemed to shake him out of his stunned expression. “Next time I ask for hazard pay,” he grumbled.

“Look, I may need some more involved help on this one,” I admitted, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I’d like to hire you to provide that assistance. Would this about cover any concerns you might have?” I offered him a shiny Silver Sigil and waited for what his answer might be.

His eyes held it tightly fixed, admiring every angle of light that played across it. Doubt seemed to dance around in them as well, a question of how honestly the offer might really be. I couldn’t blame him, I had just been offered far more than one Silver Sigil and I still felt like I was being bribed to dive into deep dark depths. That and I were asking him to step into some seriously dangerous circumstances after almost being the cause for an arcane accident. Even if he had just advised me against doing precisely what I had.

“If there are more things like this being used, it might be far too dangerous to leave you unsupervised around them,” he commented. “For one Silver Sigil now and your word that another will be provided once my service is completed I could be persuaded to offer my help. But that is strictly charity rate you understand, I can’t have it on my conscience that you were off running around being the cause for creating chaos. I’ll provide advice and you’ll listen to it or else you’re on your own.”

“Deal,” I declared immediately. And just like that I learned how to make a gremlin’s jaw drop. Apparently all it takes is offering to pay them in silver. It was either that or promising to take their advice and treat them respectfully as an equal. I figured it was perhaps more likely the pay and filed that fact away for future use.

“Well, partner, let’s get some rest while we can. We have some sniffing around to do and we’ll need our wits about us while we do.”

Hound Hunting - Chapter 18.

There is only so much time you can spend starring at a gremlin fiddling his way around the object of his curiosity. I could see some of the subtle spell threads as he poked and probed his way blindly about to try and uncover their secrets. But even to my gifted eyes there was little that I could truly see. Glitch was being guided far more effectively by his own intuition than any help I could give him. So I decided to give him some space and set my small kettle out on the stove.

In so many ways there is a pure unassuming relaxation to be found in life’s little rituals. For me, it can be just as simple as brewing up a hot beverage. Not being used to fixing for two I had to adjust my regular routine by getting two mugs out instead of one and alter my amounts. Did Glitch even like hot tallow tree tea? It wasn’t quite like the more commonly consumed teas most people drank. Tallow tree tea tended to be darker and harsher but I personally preferred it. That and it had a little added impact of giving your mind a nice jolt. On those slow mornings it was about as effective at motivating you as being kicked by a beast of burden or falling into frigid water. Of all the options available, I think I’d stick to my tallow tree tea. Call me crazy but it just seemed like the more enjoyable choice.

By the time the kettle had began to whistle its little water fueled warning Glitch still showed no sign of returning to reality. I tried to consider how complicated something so seemingly simple could possibly be as I started to pour the steaming water into my mugs. Truth told I probably knew as much about how the tea was gathered and ground or whatever they did to make it as I did about the amber amulet. As far as I could guess it couldn’t be too difficult but it was a topic I regrettably was rather ignorant on.

The tea steeped as I watched it darken gradually. There are times when it is good to remind yourself that there are always things that you aren’t aware of. It isn’t healthy to go through life expecting that you have every answer or necessarily safe either. I let that thought trickle through me like the hot water did likewise to the tea.

A pair of dark skinned pointy ears pricked up suddenly to alert my attention. Glitch blinked hesitantly at first, and then he started to shake off some form of fog that I had to guess was similar to waking up from a heavy slumber. I nearly forgot all about the tea until my hand bumped the edge of the cabinet it rested atop of with a jerk.

“Care for something to drink,” I politely offered. Graciously Glitch accepted and held his hot cup before him, taking a short sip before he spoke. “This is good,” he commented, a clear strain of spent strength present. “That amber is far older than almost any artifact of arcane origin I have ever encountered. I can’t conceive of whoever worked to create it willingly releasing it. There is too much emotion invested in it, to much time. It has been dreaming for far too long and only recently become reawakened.”

“By the way you talk, I’d hazard a guess that you discovered something,” I attempted to approach the conversation carefully. “I did,” Glitch confirmed before filling his mouth with a larger pull of liquid. My own tea sat untouched and virtually ignored. I tried to ask about what he found but no words formed from my tongue. Fortunately they weren’t needed as Glitch resumed relaying the results of his research after the bulk of his beverage disappeared.

“This is an orphaned object. It is a small piece of a greater whole and someone has gone to great links to manipulate the magic used to make it. The reason that you can’t see any trace of spells on it is because it is passively using all ambient arcane energy around it to blind you. Think of a fog or blizzard – a heavy rain even; no one snowflake or rain drop can have much affect. However, when you pull a large number together they can strip you of sight.

This has been turned into a mask for anything magical and it uses the very magic flowing around it to accomplish it. At one time it had been fashioned for other things but something has tampered and twisted it. My guess would be that they took advantage of its long sleep and the fact that as something separated there is a strong natural need for it to return to what it once was a part of.”

“Where could something like that have come from?” The question was meant for me but once again it managed to make itself known to the both of us. “There is no way that Lillian had the sheer skill needed to accomplish something that advanced. Could this thing have caused harm to someone who had it? Something like shattering their mind or warping their will by any chance?”

“Hard to say,” Glitch answered. “This has become an abomination after a fashion from what it was shaped for. But I can’t say for certain that it did the damage itself though. What I would say is a more likely explanation is that whoever bent this might have done something similar to someone else. Wouldn’t be easy, or quick and they’d have to have considerable raw power and a lack of convictions against using it so.”

That had me worried. “If there are more things like these still circulating around, could they be used to completely blind anyone from following who did it?” Already I had felt a faint force trying to distract me. Could this amber be a piece of that puzzle?

“Can you identify whoever or whatever modified this things magic Glitch?” Once more the gremlin gave me a grave look of consideration before answering. Then his eyes shot over to spot the second warm mug of tea that I had forgotten and I slid it over to him. He greeted it gratefully and began sipping the beverage.

“That would be incredibly doubtful if I had to bet anything important on it,” Glitch admitted between swallows. “Not unless whoever managed to do this somehow foolishly left some trace of the mangled magic’s core components attached to them. It’d be a mistake that might rival painting the castle walls red and forgetting to wash your hand. You’d be easy enough to spot but in this case I don’t think I’d want to risk getting close enough to check.

I can say this much though; this isn’t the kind of item one just happens upon at the corner curiosity shop. Someone had to hunt this thing down from some resting place – possibly as aged as the artifact it held. I’d say we’re looking for some tomb thief at the very least.”

“Or someone who catches them,” I corrected. Things were starting to add up, at least in a plausible-yet-unproven sort of way. Glitch may not have all the same details that I did but he had enough to get a good idea of what was going on. By taking what he had been able to provide me with I could incorporate it into the rest of the known facts. For one thing; if I was after objects of old power I would definitely want to keep my tracks as hard to follow as possible. Somebody was clearly making sure of that. Secondly, they were killing and finding things that they shouldn’t be able to. That fit right in with everything Aethen had informed me. This further pushed the working theory of a SpellHound being involved into the more likely category.

But who could it be? Of all the SpellHounds serving, how many could have possibly engaged in anything of this caliber without raising suspicion? Further more; how could any SpellHound have been able to acquire any type of artifact like the amber amulet without it being noticed? It wasn’t like they allowed you to just pocket any old piece of property you stumbled across when you caught a fugitive or criminal. Quite the opposite in fact; even the most mundane materials were examined, cataloged and destroyed or deposited into storage for safekeeping.

The more I thought about it, the more something still didn’t quite track with that. Not even some of the more prominent figures among the SpellHounds were beyond reproach if they even considered keeping anything. I couldn’t even conceive of someone like Corrin Cindercleave of being able to avoid punishment if he didn’t immediately submit it into inventory or evidence. It just isn’t something that is easy to accomplish when every one of your peers can sense even the faintest trace of magic. And if someone had been forced to alter the little amber arcane artifact that would imply that at least originally it might not have been able to conceal itself. If that was the case it would have been a dead give away to anyone of us around when it was found.

“For arguments sake,” I mused aloud. “Let’s assume for a second that someone was arrogant enough to go to the trouble of tinkering with the trinket and didn’t bother to completely make sure that some small sign stayed behind to mark them. Or, perhaps, that they left some final fragment around to keep themselves a trail or tie to other pieces. Is it at all possible that we could be able to locate them at all by taking advantage of that?”

For a split second I could almost believe that I could hear and smell the grinding of metal cogs somewhere within Glitch’s head. His expression became one of complete concentration as he honed his intellect in to address the idea. He even sat his still half-full mug down as he brought his entire attention to bear on the theory.

“If I can manage to extract a small sample of the spell shaped core of the amber I could maybe provide you with a moment where you could key in on it,” he eventually explained. “However, it would only be a faint whisper with which to go on and it would fade fairly fast. But I think I could accomplish it. Just let me retrieve some of my tools and I’ll get to work.”

“Fair enough,” I admitted as I watched him touch the tiny toy he had placed on my wall before disappearing out the door. It was more to go on than I had before. And if whoever had been behind this had been foolish enough to think they had covered their trail so thoroughly they might have made that very unfortunate error in judgment. Even so, that also made me begin to question just how sane my quarry might be. So far they had held the hallmarks of someone who was smart, sneaky and sadistic. I didn’t want to add unstable into the possible profile as well.

When you go after something as ruthless as any primal predator, you have to stay on your toes. Because the worst thing you can do is let your guard down. It isn’t like pursuing any manner of panic-stricken prey like a frightened fugitive. They can be dangerous enough when you back them into a corner, but it isn’t the same kind of titanic trouble you invite by hunting a hunter. If you challenge a creature comfortable with claws of its own and without compassion for anything else, well, there is no telling what might get harmed in the process.

But, at least you could anticipate such actions from you foe, you knew what to expect. In a way it was a sobering thought. You couldn’t count on any such knowledge if you were going up against something gone mad. There was no calculating what they might do, when they would or even how.

There was an encounter I became involved in early on after I became a SpellHound. A young sorcerer had been experimenting on his family’s livestock, eventually resulting in a broken brained boar with spell-shaped strength. The sorcerer hadn’t put up too much of a fight when he was facing a few SpellHounds. His pet, however, was a different story entirely.

The boar battled every move made to peacefully contain it. When strategies shifted to engage it with force, it fled erratically. But the most unsettling concern was when it gored with an unnaturally grizzly glee some of the other boars. For whatever reason I never could reason out if it had become so warped that it couldn’t discern between threats or if it had simply become so spiteful of spirit. Regardless, in the end it was brought down with enough blows that nothing enough remained to even resemble what it was born into this world as.

Just before it went down, the beast had started to submit to the sorcerer’s sister only to snarl and attempted attacking. The animal was just too far gone to even consider saving. It was through no fault of its own but it was still too dangerous; it couldn’t be allowed to live. Even so, I couldn’t help but wonder what havoc it might have wrought if it had been something even larger or more lethal than a boar. What if it had grown cunningly crazed as well as sadistically strong?

A twinge of regret slithered straight through me and left me with a slight shiver. At least we had limited the loss of life to that of livestock, instead of where it could have lead to. I still would rather face murderous magic than a mad mind any day though.

Realizing, rather regrettably that I had missed out on my tea I let a curse slip out under my breath. With a sigh I set myself about to start brewing up another batch of beverages while waiting for Glitch to return. Something told me that we both were going to need it.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 17.

I’d never been in the habit of having very many visitors inside my humble home let along trying to fit much more than myself inside at any one time. But strangely enough Glitch didn’t seem to make it any shorter on space than if it was just me alone. The obvious explanation was that since he was somewhat smaller than me it wasn’t comparable to me having to share the living space with anyone larger. Yet, I also couldn’t discount the fact that he had been used to calling an even smaller pile of scrap home might have something to do with it. My place must seem like a palace in comparison.

He had even patched up a few things like my chairs that I had only been able to piece back together into a makeshift manner. As I glanced around I caught sight of the differences, all the little things that stood out to me from how I had left them. Things like my chairs for example, some of my books had been respectfully returned to their rightful places and there was something new mounted to my wall as well.

It looked harmless enough, like an unassuming slender plaque that I couldn’t identify the material that had been used to make it. For all I could tell it might have been shaped from some exotic wood, but I wasn’t certain. The only thing that I was sure of was that until Glitch held his hand up to it, I couldn’t detect any magic moving through it. Once he had however, pulsing power scattered its way to weave a web of worked spells all over my home. Leaving a gossamer glow of sigils and glyphs that marked its presence as easily as moonlight marks the night.

“Glitch, where did that thing come from,” I asked immediately. “Oh, I found it,” he told me flatly. “Some people throw the strangest things out for the junk pile. It is very handy for someone with some skill to scavenge them so they don’t go to waste.”

“What does it,” I started to ask, only to be cut off. Glitch gave me a stare that made me feel like some foolish young student. “It keeps things inside in and things outside out,” he eventually explained. I had already guessed as much and had been expecting something more along the lines of how it accomplished it. Or, perhaps to at least be told some degree of detail about it. After waiting for a few more moments no further information came, forcing me to accept I had all the answers I was going to get from a gremlin.

Deciding it was a better idea to redirect the conversation I debated about asking anything more on Glitch’s family or to mention the mysterious piece of amber. I wasn’t sure which would be the more appropriate subject, seeing as how his family seemed to be a sensitive one. Was it polite to probe a gremlin about personal matters I wondered? It wasn’t like there was a wealth of common knowledge available about what was rude to them, at least not that I was aware of.

The one thing I could count on was that they all shared a natural curiosity. It was within reason that a fresh puzzle might help him distract his thoughts long enough before we broached that issue. Besides I was rather interested in it myself, which reminded me of another thing; Glitch’s gadget had also eluded my senses until it activated. Could the two different creations share a similar characteristic that gave them such a capability?

“Glitch, why is it that I couldn’t tell that this toy of yours was here until now?” My inquiry sparked another surge of satisfaction from the small scrap-smith. “See, now you can tell it is more treasure than trash too,” he cheered. “Even a SpellHound can be blind to see such things from time to time.

There is more to magic than just what even you can see. There is so much more that isn’t easily experienced, it takes time to understand. Can you see the life that flows through the forest? Do you smell the fish deepest down in the dark water? No, not even a SpellHound can pierce beyond the surface of the oldest primal powers.

The spells shaped to craft that prize is far older than Emberhelm and make use of such potent forces.” I was still processing what he had said when my impromptu instructor fell silent. He had hit the nail on the head alright I suppose; SpellHound’s had been born with the ability to perceive magic in all its forms. We could see it, smell it, even taste and hear it. And as uncomfortable as it could be there were times we had to touch it.

Now, don’t misunderstand me because you walk around in a world where magic is everywhere. You can’t avoid coming in contact with it. But for a SpellHound there are times when you have to make use of your senses to discern how dangerous some things are that others aren’t aware of. And if that means you have malicious magic being slung at you, and then you needed to be able to feel what it could do in order to defend yourself. It isn’t exactly pleasant but it can be quite vital.

I couldn’t deny that there weren’t things that I had considered over the years that might exist that were hidden from me. There was just so much that I could sense that I had learned to ignore such ideas as being born of my imagination. Until recently I hadn’t ran across too much that made me question such concerns. Now I had to review those thoughts anew.

“Okay,” I granted that I couldn’t argue with his point. “So if I can see this thing while we are inside and it is active then why is it that it is invisible to me from outside?” This time my question elicited a contemplative rub of his chin before he formed a response. I couldn’t resist the realization that there might be an untold amount of knowledge that Glitch in particular could share with others if anyone bothered to listen. There was even the possibility that the gremlins as a whole might have much to teach as well. Who knew how much that their unique connection to things might have unlocked overtime.

“It sleeps until awakened,” he declared decisively. He seemed quite sure with his assessment, enough that he added a nod to punctuate his opinion. “When you are inside and ask it to wake up you can see the life return to it. But it keeps itself calm as if still slumbering to anything outside, that way it can spring to life catch things off guard.”

That did make sense in a strange bizarre sort of way I figured. Well, if you thought of such a thing as some kind of living breathing thing. This, for me, was a pretty big stretch to believe. It was reasonable that it was the best way Glitch could explain it though and at least it was a way to look at it that provided some insight.

“And what would make something block out all sign of magic entirely,” I had to ask, doing my own imitation of a scholar’s expression of examination. “Let’s say, for example, that you found an object that was around others of magical origin. Furthermore let’s say that all these things are possessions of someone known to have spellcrafting talent. What could not only resist retaining any residual trace of that touch, but also reduce the remaining evidence of everything around it?”

Glitch had to really consider that one for awhile. I actually decided to quit counting my minutes after mentally realizing I was near to running out of fingers. Could it be that I had just stumped my smart small little associate? I was honestly beginning to believe that there might be nothing about magic used in manufacturing such objects that he didn’t know. A bead of sweat began to trickle down my forehead as I started to face the concept that I might have over-estimated his wonderful wit.

“It wouldn’t be shaped of stone or steel,” Glitch mused aloud. His voice held an almost alien quality as he spoke – it was like listening to some out of place entity as it struggled to form a clear view of things. But instead of its analysis being one formed internally it was being birthed along with breath. The whole atmosphere around us was a peculiar mix of still air and strange silence.

“Such materials are strong, resilient; capable of holding a respectable repository of power for sustained use,” he continued his unconscious commentary. “But, not all energy can be contained thusly. Some forces need to flow as they naturally do; they need a living thing to tie them to a core of their creation. Very few living people have the memories of how such magic used to be molded to make such a vessel. And even less might have the mastery to recognize it rightly.”

Eyes the color of swimming salmon stared of into nothing as I studied Glitch’s face. Slowly they started to clear from whatever mental maze had gripped the gremlin. I couldn’t really mark what exactly it might mean, but I kept my attention firmly trained on the tiny tinkerer. There was more he had left to say, I could feel it.

“What you’re describing,” he offered as his voice returned to its more familiar sound. “The thing you speak of is a primal and quite potent natural method of magic. It would be bound to a substance that held a living life at some point. Stone may have held the energy of the earth passing through it, but what you seek would have had to been something that grew. For example a long lived limb of wood could be worked to provide its primal essence to some arcane energy if properly shaped. It isn’t easily done; it takes time and instinct to fuse everything intuitively in a way that can prevent becoming rejected. Things are done differently now; cruder some would say but progress is proof that elegance isn’t necessary if function is a foundation.”

At some point while Glitch had been sharing his speculations with me I had withdrew the amber amulet from my pocket. It still didn’t feel any different than any other commonly found chunk of solidified sap but it still seemed wrong to me. My fingertips felt their way over its exterior finding nothing out of the ordinary. My mind was still working to incorporate what Glitch had explained, trying to tie anything together it could.

Looking down at the yellowed brown substance resting in my hand seemed to draw Glitch’s eye. When I looked back up I could see the unspoken question behind his eyes. I didn’t have to tell him anything more than I already had. But it was in my nature to be straight with people.

“I found this at a lady’s house, among her things,” I admitted. “She was involved in a crime that took advantage of her ability to use magic. Problem is that someone has done something to her that has shattered her mind and left little clue as to what was going on. People have tried to kill me, her place was invaded – they killed her mother and nearly did the same to her father. There was a kid in the house who will probably never forget what happened and I have no idea if anything else was taken to cover their tracks.

Something very dangerous is in the works, Glitch, and I have been asked to get to the bottom of it. For fate’s favor I would have done so if for no other reason than people needed help. I have the ability to make a difference and there are people paying a price they don’t deserve.”

I had to take a second to compose myself before I continued. Once I had I made a conscious effort to try to get my focus back on track to where it needed to be. “So, is there any way you could figure out where this thing came from or how it works? Right now it is just about all I have to go on.”

An excited glee fell over Glitch that he couldn’t hide at all, not that it seemed like he even bothered to try. He grinned so big that his teeth even began to show; it was the fiendish look of fun that can make you hesitate. “Well, let’s take a little look-see, shall we,” he exclaimed.

Before I could make any move to say a word a thing of amber was already in his hand and being scrutinized. From the devilish drive that now motivated his every move I began to question if the trinket would still be in one piece by the time any answers came. But I suppose you just have to trust people sometimes.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 16.

Midday had given way to afternoon as my booted feet hit the stone covered streets again. The rain had passed away, but hanging around I its wake was a gloomy sky of grey that impressed upon Emberhelm a reminder of recent weather. In the diffused light of day the plain piece of amber looked dull, lacking that luster that sunlight could cast it in. It added another element to the curious creation that made me wonder all the more just where it came from and what part it played. Or did it play any part at all?

No. I couldn’t allow myself any doubts now. This had to be my ticket to a trail, there was too much ambiguity amuck for an overly untouched article of amber. When there is an absolute lack of any tracks to follow, sometimes their very absence can be a clue all its own. That was the inherent hubris some people made when being hunted; they covered their tracks too well – they left things too clean. Even the softest steps can leave some sign or their passing. But when there isn’t any mark made by anything that is when even the most primal predator will ponder the puzzle.

I just needed Glitch to be able to provide me with anything he could about Lillian’s trinket. My feet fell into a steady pace while I tried to gauge where I should direct myself that would allow me the best odds of finding the genial gremlin. It wasn’t like he ever traveled far outside Gutterside much, so that narrowed things down considerably. Then I also remembered that I had ‘hired’ him to play watchdog on my wagon for me. If he was a creature of his word, and I had always known Glitch to be precisely that, he’d be stationed somewhere so that he could keep my home easily surveyed.

Garuff wasn’t above returning to remind me of where I stood in relation to him, predictably by means of entering my home to do as he pleased. He already had done more than enough to punctuate that point, and despite the fact that I had paid him I couldn’t rule out additional animosity. It was just in his nature to harass people I believe, as natural to him as breathing perhaps.

Having anyone I could trust at least keeping an eye on my place did make me feel a little better about everything though. Not that I didn’t have faith in Glitch being able to protect himself, but Garuff’s goons were far larger and could outnumber the little guy. I might have paid him to monitor my place but I hadn’t exactly invested enough in him to risk any injuries. Although, knowing Glitch he probably was clever enough to keep any combat quite calculated in his favor.

As an attempt to try and redirect my thoughts I set about reviewing a few things that I had been able to piece together so far. For starters; there was some individual or group going around sniffing out secret guards sworn to keep dangerous items hidden. How they were finding them was still a mystery since not even I had been given anything to go on about how to locate them or recognize one should I find myself starring one in the face. A minor detail I suppose.

To further complicate the case, the very things they were protecting were supposedly sealed away or hidden in some manner to remove the risk of them being discovered. And on the rare chance that one of them had been sniffed out then that would mean a SpellHound truly was involved. With me being the only one I could think of not being bound by my oath that was a scary thought. It also meant that if this thing went any worse on me then I was going to be sitting around with a big primary suspect sign around my neck. Say goodbye to my happy thoughts.

That left me with another thing to consider; Lillian. She was at least in some capacity a cause for me getting tangled up into this whole mess. Her and that Butcher hadn’t concocted their little scheme all on their own. If they had her mind wouldn’t have been ended up holier than a moth riddled rag. No, something or someone had used them as part of something – perhaps this greater game that was currently being played. I just had to connect all the pieces together.

Both Lillian and the Butcher had already some spellcasting skill. His were of the expectedly brutish variety while hers where not quite refined by any means but at least seemed to be something she had become comfortable with to some lesser degree. Most folks born into a world where they could wield any magic at all either shut themselves off from it or they embraced it. And of those who chose to cling to it they could seek the chance to study it or try and find their own way; the latter didn’t tend to produce respectable results. Lillian had been one of the rare few who had not found her way starring down a SpellHound in the streets – until now.

So now I had a brain blasted young spell-maiden sucked into some sinister scheme and no idea how she became involved. I had no clue how many more of these un-marked guardians might have died while I tried to make sense of anything, much less if more of these mysterious magical treasures have been stolen. Sadly, I couldn’t even convincingly say that I still had a home left to go back to I admitted. I mean, I hoped everything was still there, but against some of the grim circumstances starting to form, I had to consider my luck might only get worse before it kept improving.

Once more I felt the road beneath my feet give way to gravel and finally the packed stone dust of Gutterside. It was the kind of unspoken sensation that sent a tingle through your body as some small part of you whispered the confirmation: you’re home. No matter how far you go, or whatever becomes of you it is simply a natural byproduct of establishing some degree of roots for yourself. Even if your home is a beat up old caravan wagon permanently parked in perhaps the least prominent precinct.

It took me an extra few moments to single out Glitch’s familiar scent among the others of Gutterside. I had already started to accept that the arcane distortions that were present everywhere weren’t going anywhere. If I was going on the offensive to engage in some pernicious plot, then I’d want to both cover my tracks and slow down any attempts at intervention as well. The conjured clutter was certainly succeeding in all those areas.

The faint footsteps of the gremlin didn’t lead me back to his small shack. This wasn’t a complete surprise, since I had already expected that he might have taken up a position more suitable for keeping an eye on my place. What I hadn’t counted on was where I did find him; his trail had ended going inside my home. And there was no sign of him having exited.

“The gall of that gremlin,” I mumbled to myself immediately. “You pay a guy to keep an eye on a place so that nobody else goes inside to cause you any more problems and what does he do? He decides to park himself precisely where you wanted to keep people out of.” I had to remind myself to hold my tongue as I approached the door. It wasn’t exactly advisable or polite to ridicule someone who was doing you a favor. Besides, if he hadn’t expected me to walk in on him enjoying my humble abode then I could at least savor a look of surprise.

My senses swept over my surroundings as I reached out to grasp the door and found no cause for alarm at first. But the split second my hand hovered within a hair of the knob instinct immediately objected to opening anything. What had he done to my wagon? My head was impressively clearer than it had been this morning but for whatever reason, be it from my day, the previous night or whatever you care to blame it on I couldn’t predict what might happen if I blindly turned that knob.

“Glitch,” I greeted the gremlin with an over-emphasized neutral voice. “This is Nathanial Vaen; would you mind telling me why you’re in my hone and what you’ve done to it.” As an after thought I decided to add; “please.”

Whatever had set off my warning reflex hadn’t manifested enough for me to fully make out but there was just enough that I could register a ghostly shimmer flicker and then fade away. Discretion is the better part of valor, or so I’m told. And considering how I had already almost walked right into an ambush and another attack that could have ended different had not those involved fled I decided to err on the side of caution. I took a few deliberate steps back down from my door and waited.

Glitch didn’t say anything at first, which gave me enough time to really wonder what he was doing inside My Home. Eventually though I did hear a few strange sounds, almost too soft to make out and then his voice followed them. “You pay me for protect,” he offered as an explanation. “Best job I can do from being inside.”

The door swung open and I suddenly found myself looking up at the short figure of Glitch, a somewhat perplexed look on his face. It was kind of expression that you were tempted to chuckle at; a raised eyebrow above the hint of a smirk. The whole combination reminded me of a mix between a confused child and a master craftsman being questioned about the quality of his trade. I repressed a laugh all the same and bought me a moment for composure with a cough.

“Ahem,” I redirected, or tried to anyway. “That explains why you’re in my home, Glitch, but not why I got second thoughts when I was about to enter. Didn’t I ask you to just look after it for me? All you had to do was let me know if Garuff did anything else to hassle me. You didn’t need to camp out inside… Or whatever else you did.”

The odd expression didn’t fall Glitch’s face as he studied me while I spoke. “You paid me,” he said still unsure of the source of my reaction. “Good pay too, so I do good work. Master Spell-Sniffer was worried about his things, so Glitch makes them safe. Now they have protection from people when Spell-Sniffer sleeping or busy.”

I had to say, my offense at returning to find my home had been entered without consent twice in one day was rapidly retreating in favor of a growing fondness for what he was implying. And I had hired him to provide me with some sense of security. He certainly had held up his end by my estimate. Actually, I would almost say that Glitch had gone above what I had expected to do his reputation proud.

“Well, I am indeed grateful and impressed,” I revealed. His charcoal colored face shifted into a smile of self-satisfaction at my words immediately. “You do great work and I have to say that you’re even more reliable than most non-gremlins I know.” The additional praise seemed to improve his inflating appreciation for his handiwork. He had earned his pay already, I concluded. I wasn’t above paying him further for any additional aid he could offer, but if he was in a good mood perhaps he might be more agreeable if he found anything that might hint at how dangerous things might be. That and the happier he was the less likely he might be to ask for increased reward. I might not see so much silver again anytime soon, I’d prefer to make it last just in case.

“Glitch, my friend,” I began, deciding to try my luck. “I may have another job that only someone with your extraordinary talents might have any hope of tackling. If you aren’t too busy could I count on you to help me out? There really isn’t anyone else I expect who I could take this to besides you capable of figuring this thing out.”

Appealing to his pride he had in his work along with a meager measure of enticing his curiosity looked like it was doing the trick as Glitch considered my offer. But then my luck returned and I was handed a curveball I hadn’t ever expected. All the while I was outside talking to a gremlin still standing inside my home.

“You pay me very good,” he pointed out very business-like. “I do good work for you and make you happy. If you pay me better then I do better job for you and make you even happier.”

There was a disguised quiver in his tone that troubled me. Granted, I also was worried how much more money he might be expecting but I couldn’t ignore the fact that there might be something deeper motivating Glitch’s proposal. I was certain of it when my hesitation prompted him to lower his head and his shoulders slumped slightly along with it.

“What troubles you,” I asked as delicately as I could. “You’ve done me a favor and helped ease my burden, what can I do in return?” When he looked back up to address me I could see the pain present in his eyes.

“I need money to rescue my family,” he said. And it was all he had to. Nobody as good as Glitch deserved to suffer, not even a gremlin. “You’ll get it, you have my word,” I swore an oath to him. For once I didn’t even really feel all too guilty about it either.