Walk by the Shadows

IV. Cache-ing In

Brynjolf had no trouble acquiring her desired dagger or robbing Radiant Raiment of every septim locked in their strongbox—about a thousand gold coins. He even found some gold jewelry they had left lying out for him, as he put it. And as Macayla had suspected, he retrieved his payment for their meals and rooms, through The Winking Skeever's own strongbox.

Macayla thought to join him on his night raid, but being without any of her lockpicking tools, she wouldn't have been an asset in any way. Brynjolf also encouraged her to rest for the night, since she still had some healing to go. So she let him have his fun as she slept. After a quick stop at her hidden cache near Karthwasten today, though, he wouldn't be the only one enjoying the nighttime fun.

As planned, they left early, before most of Solitude woke; by the time the shopkeepers opened their stores, Macayla and Brynjolf were already thirty miles away. The journey to her cache would take a day and a half, and Yondis Trading Warehouse another day more. But again, they were in no hurry and Brynjolf never pushed her in the slightest; he was in no dire need of returning to Riften.

She had taken a smaller dose of health potion in preparation for the long, arduous journey ahead of them; other than bruises, pain was nonexistent, and her stamina was fine like she wasn't tired at all. Yet another mystery, not that she was complaining. By the end of the day, they had travelled more than what she had thought she could do. Instead of a day and a half's journey, they would reach her hidden supply before tomorrow evening.

***

So far, they had stayed on the main road toward Markarth, but at a certain spot, Macayla diverted their path onto a lesser-travelled dirt road winding up into the mountains. Now they encountered far more wildlife and predators; they also had to stay on the watch for Forsworn—natives of the Reach who, after a failed uprising against civilization, became wild, living in camps hidden in the mountains, and practiced magic. Wolves were their main aggressors; they heard a bear somewhere in the mist but snuck away from the noise. Macayla had gotten to use her new dagger and found it was not as hard to wield as she had thought.

They followed the dirt path for a few miles before Macayla caught sight of a familiar cluster of boulders, then took them completely off it. With the day drifting closer to an end, the fog had lessened in thickness, but it still made the withering bushes and skeletal trees appear as specters in the mist. Sometimes a second look was needed to confirm it was foliage and not an undead draugr stalking its next victim.

After a bit more walking, the uneven hill straightened to a cliff. The fog prevented gazing down into the valley, the cliff hung over so it looked suspended, as if the last piece of Skyrim. There were boulders of varying sizes strewn about and bushes; a few juniper trees provided proof of the thriving landscape.

Macayla walked straight to a small cluster of boulders being guarded by a large boulder. It blocked sight of Macayla on her right and most vulnerable side; a juniper tree helped distort her image on her left.

She had carefully chosen the location of her cache—the strategic position of it meant its accessibility was low, the boulders and foliage provided even more cover, and she had dutifully watched it to see if farmers, adventurers, or bandits visited frequently. Deep in the Reach and with a high enough elevation, the mist hanging in the mountains hid her approach to it. If any eyes happened to roam over her, they would see what appeared to be an apparition in the fog; when they would blink, she'd be gone.

Setting aside a few of the rocks to reveal the last one half-buried into the earth, Macayla easily picked up the fake rock and set it aside, too. She reached down into her hidden reserve of supplies to pull out a flat box; she flicked open the latch to find a generous supply of picks and a knife lying beside a folded leather belt of multiple flaps.

Brynjolf stepped up behind her.

"I have many of these scattered throughout Skyrim, so I would never run out of picks, or have somewhere to quickly stash loot."

"Handy."

She sat it down by her knee to reach down for another box, slightly heavier. It opened to a filled coin bag of about 150 septims, a small pouch of jewels, and a gold medallion—Edvar's medallion, to be exact. She held it up for Brynjolf to see.

"This cursed thing will pay me back for the pain it caused me."

She tucked the medallion and pouch of jewels in the coin purse, took out the picks and knife, stored them in flaps on the leather belt and draped it across her chest, then set to returning the boxes back into the earth. She placed the fake rock back over the hole, replaced the stones around it, and stood.

"Now let's go have some fun."