Chapter 11
Heljarchen Hall was quiet. Tavian and Roald had gone back to Cyrodiil to begin the second year of their tour of duty. Julia was relieved. Having to be polite to a young man she blamed for the death of her brother had tested every fiber of her being. She still couldn't understand what had possessed Tavian to invite him to stay. If he hadn't, Alesan might still be alive. She had sobbed red-hot tears in her room at night over her carefree adopted brother, knowing she would never see him again, either in this life or the next. As a werewolf, his soul belonged to the Daedric Prince Hircine, and Alesan would run beside his new master, on the eternal hunt, until the end of time.
Roald had been subdued and respectful in the week following Alesan's death, until he and Tavian had had to leave, and Julia kept her interactions with him at a minimum, not trusting herself not to lash out at him.
Footsteps came down the stairs to the alchemy lab, and her mother stood in the doorway, watching her compound alchemical ingredients for future use.
"Well, they're off," Tamsyn said quietly, crossing the room and settling herself on a comfortable settee nearby. "You didn't say good-bye to your brother," she pointed out.
"I didn't get to say good-bye to Alesan, either," she muttered, pounding the pestle into the mortar a little harder than was truly necessary.
Tamsyn sighed. "Sweetheart, you can't blame the boys for that. Alesan knew the risks he was taking."
"He didn't have to die at all!" Julia cried, not facing her mother. "If Tavian hadn't brought Roald here, they wouldn't have been in Korvanjund in the first place, and Alesan would still be alive!"
"That's true, as far as it goes," her mother said softly. "But if he hadn't died in Korvanjund, he might have – would have – died somewhere else. For most people, the hour of our death is a mystery we never know until it occurs."
There was something in the way she spoke the words that made Julia stop macerating her components. She turned around to face the older woman.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, studying her mother carefully. Two locks of white hair framed her face, which had a few more lines on it than Julia liked to remember. The rest of her auburn hair, which her father so loved, was fading; it wasn't as deep as it had once been, and there were more strands of white in it than usual. The deep green eyes, which Julia had inherited from her, were a bit more sunken and tired.
"Mom?" she murmured, crossing the room to sit next to her. "Are you alright?"
Tamsyn smiled. "I'm fine, dear," she assured her daughter. "Just a bit tired, is all. And sad. Losing Alesan was something I always knew would happen someday. I knew I would outlive him, once he took the werewolf blood again."
"You Saw it happening?" Julia frowned, a part of her dying inside. She never had the true gift of Sight as her mother did. It only came infrequently, and only in flashes; never enough to be helpful when she needed it to be.
"I did," Tamsyn confessed. "I think that's why I'm handling it better than you and Tavian, I suppose. Even your father knew it would happen, because I told him. For that reason, he was easier on Roald than you felt he should have been. Tavian blames himself, of course, and to some degree, he is partly to blame. But Roald needed to come here, darling. He needed to see what a normal, happy family life could be. He needed to know that he doesn't have to put up a shield between himself and the world."
"And the price of that was Alesan?" Julia scowled. "It wasn't worth it!"
"Akatosh seems to think it was," her mother said quietly.
"A-Akatosh?" Julia faltered. "Really?"
Tamsyn nodded. "Your father mentioned he'd spoken to Him shortly after Roald's arrival. So don't be too harsh on that young man. He's had a serious wake-up call about the direction his life was headed. And he now has a blood debt on his hands that may take some time for him to repay."
Julia said nothing. She knew her father sometimes spoke with the Chief of the Nine Divines, in the same manner as she sometimes spoke with her grandfather. If Akatosh Himself felt that Roald's presence here at Heljarchen was needed, then she could hardly object.
"I…I need to think about it," she finally sighed.
"I know, dear," Tamsyn smiled, patting her shoulder. "That's all I ask." She sighed as she rose to her feet. "I should help Lydia get a lunch prepared. Your father is at the woodpile, working up an appetite."
Julia watched her carefully as she headed up the stairs, more slowly than she used to, and holding onto the railing for support.
Something isn't right with her, she worried. And she's trying to hide it from all of us.
Divination had never come easily to her. Of all the schools of magic she had progressed in, Divination was at the bottom of the list. But concern for her mother galvanized her into making another foray into that field. She carefully put away the ingredients and tools she had been using and cleaned up the lab table before heading up to her room. Seating herself on the floor next to a bowl of water, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and cleared her mind.
Nothing came to her for a long time, as she carefully tuned out other noises and sensations. Fleeting images, just out of her grasp, flitted through her mind's eye, tantalizing in their suggestion of a possible future, but nothing she could focus on, or try to comprehend. In the end, she gave it up with a sigh. She would never be the accomplished Seer her mother was. Whatever her mother was hiding from her, it would remain hidden until the Arch-Mage herself chose to reveal it – if she ever did.
The death of Idolaf Battle-born shook the city of Whiterun to its core. The Battle-borns had been an established family in the Hold capital almost from its beginning. Alfhild was inconsolable, having lost first her son in the Last War, and now her husband to "brigands". She never learned the truth of his death; Vilkas kept his promise to the Dragonborn and made certain neither she nor her brother-in-law, Jon, ever found out what had really happened. Jon Battle-born felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders as the patriarch of his clan. Married to Olfina Grey-mane, the feud between the families had been put to rest at last, and Jon became a more frequent visitor to Dragonsreach in an effort to understand his place in the community, beyond being a simple teller of tales. Strangely, he found he adapted well to court life, and soon became Thane, assisting the people of the Hold in much the same way as the Dragonborn had done – except, perhaps, without all the swordplay.
Olfina assisted him where she could, and found that the women of the Hold were more likely to come to her with their problems than to her husband.
"It's just a simple locket," Gwendolyn told her. The Nord woman had been running the Battle-born Farm outside the city for as long as Olfina could remember. "It doesn't have much value to anyone but me," she continued. "But it belonged to my mother, and her mother before her, going back several generations. I would take it as a kindness if you could find someone to recover it from the thief who stole it from me."
"I'll see what I can do," Olfina promised, as her two children chased each other around her skirts. "Tell me where you think it may be."
In due time, a courier arrived at Heljarchen, and Lydia accepted the letter on behalf of her Thane, who was away with the Arch-Mage for a few days in Solitude.
"Who is it from?" Julia asked, carefully mending her favorite tunic by the fire. The torn fabric had given way due to its age, but Julia couldn't bring herself to throw it in the scrap bin just yet. Instead, she had carefully cut out an appliqué to apply over the tear, and was meticulously stitching it into place.
"Olfina Grey-ma—" Lydia caught herself. "I mean, Battle-born. She's been married to Jon for ten years, now. You'd think I'd remember that."
"You grew up with her, didn't you?" Julia asked.
Lydia nodded. "I did, though she was a few years younger than me. I'm wondering if I should contact your father and let him know this arrived."
"I'll do it, Lydia," Julia volunteered, grateful to have her mind on something other than her thoughts, which hadn't been very pleasant company of late. She took the sealed envelope and tapped the ear bud in her ear, summoning the image of her father in her mind. Lydia retreated to let her handle the matter.
The Dragonborn answered almost instantly. "I'm here, sweetheart," came his reply. "What's up?"
"A letter for you from Olfina Battle-born," she informed him.
There was a short silence. Finally, he spoke, and there was caution in his tone. "What does she want?"
"I don't know," Julia stated. "I haven't opened it because it's addressed to you."
"Go ahead and open it," Marcus said, giving her permission. "Read to me what it says."
Julia did as he requested. The letter was concise and to the point:
"Dragonborn, please forgive me for bothering you, but a close friend of the family, Gwendolyn – who runs our farm – has had a family heirloom stolen from her, and she believes the thief took it to his lair in White River Watch. Would you be able to help us, please? It would mean a lot to me, personally. – Olfina Battle-born."
Julia waited for her father's response, gazing at the map on the wall as she did so, trying to find White River Watch.
"That place again?" her father snorted. "I keep clearing it out, and they keep coming back. One of these days I'm just going to fus the whole place down!"
Julia chuckled, before inquiring, "Where is it located? I can't find it on your map."
"It's just across the river from the Honningbrew Meadery," he told her. "There's a trail that leads back up into the hills on that side of the Throat of the World. It's a small cave system, but the ruffians who frequent the place have built it up over the years; it's fairly well furnished inside."
"What should I tell Olfina?" Julia asked. "It seems like she's expecting some sort of reply."
Her father blew out a sigh. "We're kind of tied up, here, for a bit," he admitted. "I won't be able to help her until we get back, and that might take a week or so."
"Alright," Julia nodded, though she knew he couldn't see it. "I'll let her know." A plan was already forming in her mind, but she didn't feel the need to let her father know just yet. Instead, she sought out Lydia after signing off with him, and outlined her plan to the Steward.
"I don't think your father would want you taking this on all by yourself," the Nord woman frowned, removing a pan of baked squash from the oven. The spicy aroma filled the air, and Julia felt her stomach rumble, though it was still hours before dinner.
"That's why I think you should come with me," Julia explained.
"Me?" Lydia blinked. "Come with you?"
"Yes," Julia confirmed. "You're experienced, like Rayya; you've been to White River Watch before; and you're a personal friend of Olfina Battle-born. You have a vested interest in coming with me, to see to my safety. Besides, it will get the mission done sooner, rather than wait for Dad to come back."
"She makes sense, Mother," Kirsten said, peeling vegetables at the sideboard. "You wouldn't want your sword-arm to get rusty, would you?" she added in a teasing tone.
"Quiet, you," Lydia scolded, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I just can't leave everything here and take off at a moment's notice. Your father would not thank me for that."
"For what?" Gregor asked, coming in from outside with an armload of wood. Behind him, his son Korst carried another load, twice as heavy. They carefully placed the split logs in the rack by the hearth.
"Miss Julia wants Mother to go with her, to retrieve something for Olfina Battle-born," his daughter informed him.
"So?" Gregor blinked, unimpressed. "Go. What's stopping you?"
"I can't just drop everything and go," Lydia protested, though her tone implied she wished she could.
"Why not?" her husband asked. "The children and I will manage while you're gone. Just make sure to come back to us," he added, a smile full of love on his face.
"Are you sure?" she wavered.
"You can't let Miss Julia go alone, Ma," Korst spoke up, which surprised Julia, as the tall Nord seldom said much. "If you don't go with her, I will."
"No!" Lydia said abruptly. "I'll…I'll go with her, son. It could be dangerous. And as Julia pointed out, I've been there before. I have an idea what to expect."
The exchange between mother and son was a familiar one to Julia. Lydia was extremely protective of her children, having had a profoundly difficult time bringing them into the world. It was Tamsyn herself who had midwifed for Lydia, and who had informed her afterwards that she should never have more, as it might kill her. Shaken, Gregor had voluntarily vowed to take precautions to prevent it from happening again. He had sought out Erandur in Dawnstar, and while the details were unknown to any but the Nord and his priest, he had ensured he could never father children again.
"We'll leave in the morning, then," Lydia promised, and Julia felt her heart skip. If the two of them could find the heirloom and return it before her father came back from his trip, then perhaps he would realize she was ready to do a little 'trouble-shooting' of her own.
"I'm really grateful for this," Olfina said, though her brow was furrowed. "Are you sure you can handle those ruffians, though?" She threw a skeptical look at Julia as she spoke. It was Lydia who responded.
"I've been there before, Olfina," she assured her friend. "Several times, in fact. I know the place. We'll find that locket."
"I have a bit of gold put aside—" Olfina began, but Lydia waved her off.
"This is a favor for a friend," she insisted. "I wouldn't think of taking your gold. My Thane wouldn't, either." She smiled to ease the rebuff, and Olfina returned the smile.
"Thank you, Lydia," she sighed. "I can't think why those thieves took the piece in the first place. Gwendolyn told me it's just a plain, silver locket with some engraving on it; not valuable at all."
"I'm sure the value of the piece means little to them," Julia observed. "Just the fact that she had something she treasured was enough for them to want it. How did they learn of it in the first place?"
"Gwendolyn told me she thinks it was a man they hired on earlier this season to get the crops in," Olfina said. "He's not from around here; just a migrant worker, picking up jobs where he can. After the sowing was done, they let him go. It wasn't long after that that Gwendolyn noticed her locket was missing."
"That's pretty damning evidence," Lydia frowned.
"But it's not conclusive proof," Julia couldn't help but point out. "Were there other migrant workers hired on at the same time?"
"Aye," Olfina replied. "But all the others were people we've known and hired on in the past. The new man, Jakel, has never worked for us before."
"What makes Gwendolyn think he went to White River Watch?" Julia asked.
"He'd mentioned something about the place to her, early on in the season," Olfina explained. "But she couldn't remember why it came up."
"We'll check it out," Lydia said firmly. "If her locket is there, we'll find it and bring it back."
As Lydia and Julia walked down the road towards the White River bridge, the younger girl couldn't help but notice the expansion being made to the city. New walls were being constructed to include and protect outlying homes and farms that had sprung up after the war. The Pelagia farm across the road was practically becoming a fortification, with a thick, wooden stockade wall going up on its southern side. Not to be left out, the Honningbrew Meadery showed signs of tying into the stockade wall along its property line.
A guard tower had been constructed across the road just west of the crossroads by the bridge, and several of Whiterun's finest kept watch in each direction from their vantage point twenty feet above ground.
They crossed the river and turned north to follow the road along the bluff that rose above the churning rapids of the White River. After a couple of miles, Lydia called a halt.
"See that trail there, off to the east and south?" she pointed out. Julia nodded. "That's the way to White River Watch. From here we'll have to be extra cautious. There's usually a couple of lookouts just outside the cave entrance, but we won't be able to see them before they can see us. I wish you'd chosen to wear armor," she frowned. "I'd feel a lot better about this if you had."
"I haven't found any armor that I liked well enough to want to wear all the time, like Dad," Julia shrugged. "And Mother never wore armor."
Lydia didn't answer immediately, but her mouth thinned, as if making a monumental effort to keep her thoughts to herself. "Just be ready for anything," was all she said.
Crouching, the two women hugged the base of the cliff, keeping out of sight of anyone who might be watching the road. Lydia had drawn her bow, and Julia brought Destruction magic into her hands.
"We take them all out, understand?" Lydia whispered. "We don't leave any alive to harass travelers on the road."
Julia nodded. She and the Steward had confirmed a bounty with Jarl Balgruuf before speaking with Olfina. She almost quivered with a combination of excitement and nausea. She was eager to prove she could handle herself in situations like this, but the knowledge that she would have to murder someone in cold blood because they preyed on the less fortunate made her stomach turn.
As they climbed up the path and rounded a knoll of rock, they heard shouts from above.
"You picked a bad day to get lost, friend!"
Standing swiftly, Lydia loosed two arrows in rapid succession before slinging the bow on her back and drawing her sword and shield. Julia couldn't pinpoint exactly where the voice had come from, and hesitated, seeking a target. An arrow whizzed past her head, and she belatedly swapped Destruction magic for other Schools, throwing up a ward to protect her from the arrows while limning herself with Mage Armor with her other hand.
Lydia charged in, engaging the Nord on the lower platform. "Take out the archer!" she called to Julia, who was still trying to locate where the arrows were originating.
Plink! Plink!
Ah! There he was! She followed the trajectory back and sent a Flame Atronach after him, bringing fire into her hand immediately after. As expected, the archer began peppering the Atronach, which he perceived – rightfully – to be the more immediate threat. Julia dropped her shield to conserve her magicka and kept up a steady stream of firebolts at the Bosmer.
Lydia was relentless against the Nord, pushing him back against the tables set up along one side. He stumbled, and she cut him down before he could regain his feet. Drawing her bow once more, she nocked an arrow, but could see it wasn't necessary. The Bosmer archer had succumbed to the Atronach and Julia's firebolts.
"Now we go inside," Lydia warned her. "It will be tight quarters in there, and your Atronach might not serve us as well."
"She's almost done anyway," Julia said, even as the summon crackled out of existence. "Do you have any idea how many might be in there?"
"None at all," the Nord woman said. "It's been a while since I've been here. But there are at least four or five separate caves inside. Ramps and stairs connect them as they climb up into the mountain. It doesn't go all the way to the top, thank the Divines. But you can't see the overlook from this angle. Too much rock in the way."
"I guess that's a good thing," Julia murmured. "Otherwise, these two might have had reinforcements showing up."
As they crept silently inside, they paused a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the dimness. Rounding a corner, the tunnel opened into a smallish chamber with barrels and sacks lining one wall, and a table and chair set up against the other. An opening at the back of the cave revealed a make-shift ladder climbing up to another area, and a cupboard had been jammed against the wall next to it.
"Eh? Who's there? Rodulf, that you?"
Julia started as she realized there was an older man seated at the table, an open book in front of him. But his milky-white eyes stared straight ahead of him.
Lydia cleared her throat and mimicked a low, gruff voice. "Yeah, it's me."
The old man appeared not to notice any change in 'Rodulf's' voice. "You catchin' a cold or something?" he asked before shrugging. "Anyways, Boss was looking for you - said he'd be up at the summit. Better not keep him waiting."
Julia's face split into a grin, but Lydia shot her a warning look and motioned her to follow, as quietly as she could. They crossed the chamber and climbed the stairs, finding themselves on a ledge piled with more sacks and barrels, which mostly contained food, as Julia found when she lifted the lid on one of the barrels. To their left was a natural opening in the rock that led into another small cave. There were bedrolls on the floor in here, Julia could see, but a ramp led up along the back wall, and she heard voices from somewhere up above.
"So, you in?" a woman's voice asked.
"...Yeah," sighed her companion, a male. "We can't have that rheumpy-eyed fool as our watchman, even if he is Hajvarr's uncle. Time we dealt with both of them."
"We strike tonight, at dusk," she advised him. "Be ready."
Julia could see the man. He was leaning against the cave wall at the top of the ramp. The woman he was speaking to was somewhere beyond, out of sight.
Lydia's bow was out, and two arrows sank into the man's side before he could cry out. She drew her sword and shield again and advanced into the room.
"What?" the female bandit exclaimed, shocked. "Hennig!" Julia heard the sound of magic being cast, and quickly revised her strategy. The fire in her hands switched to electricity in one and a ward in the other. She slipped in behind Lydia, who was heading for the ramp as an Imperial mage came into view. Fire lashed out from the mage, and Lydia recoiled backwards, keeping her distance.
Julia shot the mage with a bolt of lightning, draining her of some of her magicka in addition to momentarily paralyzing her.
"No!" the mage cried. "Jakel! Get down here!"
Jakel! Julia thought. The one who took the locket!
Lydia, too, seemed to recognize the significance of the name and pressed forward, using her shield to block the next gout of flame from the mage.
Julia blasted the Imperial girl with another jolt of shock magic, but had to put her shield up quickly to avoid receiving an attack in kind. There was a shuddering jerk as her shield blocked the shock spell, dissolving to nothing. She would have to cast it again to counter another attack.
Jakel must not have been far away, as he arrived at once. Burly, tall, and with a beard that seemed to merge with his chest hair, he drew a greatsword and barked at the mage, "Get back!" She willingly complied, but hovered behind him, striking out with firebolts at Lydia, who was forced to retreat back down the ramp.
Julia conjured up a wolf familiar to harry Jakel and the mage, to give Lydia some assistance, and shot Jakel with a Paralysis spell. The big Nord stiffened and toppled over, falling off the ramp onto the floor of the cave. The wolf went after the Imperial mage, but didn't last long. Julia heard it yelp as her opponent shot it with a lightning bolt and it winked out of existence.
"I've got the mage," Lydia called, bearing down on the woman. "Bind Jakel!"
Casting her eyes around the chamber, Julia found some leather strips sitting on a nearby dresser that had been hauled in, and she quickly bound Jakel hand and foot, using a Prestidigitation spell her mother had taught her to tighten the knots. For good measure, she gagged him as well.
A shriek from above told her that Lydia had killed the mage, and a moment later the Nord woman reappeared at the top of the ramp.
"There are more up ahead," she informed Julia. "Leave him there for the time being. We'll come back to him. Let's finish this."
In the next chamber above they found several brigands debating whether one could train a half-starved wolf as one could a dog. Lydia found a pull chain that opened the cage door and, with a grin, casually pulled it down, waiting for the cries of alarm in the next room to subside. The wolf was killed, but not before it had taken one of the bandits with it, and grievously injuring another. There were two archers here, as well, on the ramp that led upwards, but this was a larger chamber, and Julia sent her Flame Atronach out once more to deal with them while she and Lydia mopped up the two and a half bandits that threatened them here. The injured one was dispatched quickly, but Julia was having difficulty avoiding arrows launched from above while keeping herself in one piece against the Orc who was determined to bifurcate her.
"No one bests an Orc!" he roared.
"Except a Breton mage," she jeered, sending out a spell.
Illusion was a School she had mastered many years before, and even the Orc, with his impressive constitution, cowered before her Rout spell. The Dunmer who had been fighting Lydia was caught in the area of effect, and bolted down the tunnel, heading down to the exit. Lydia turned her attention to the Orc, who had to get past her to follow, and cut him down before he went three steps.
"Pull back," she ordered Julia, motioning to the tunnel they had come in from, where the Dunmer had escaped. The Atronach was still slinging firebolts at the two archers, but it was clear she was receiving more damage than she was dealing. Julia followed Lydia as they retreated.
"Not the best strategy," the Nord woman admonished. "Now we have an enemy behind us, which is never a good thing."
There was a crackling sound as the Atronach dissipated, and the two archers could be heard coming closer, towards the ramp that led down to them.
"I'll need to summon something stronger, then," Julia mused.
"Fine," Lydia said. "Do that, but watch your back for that Dunmer to return when your spell wears off. And let's hope he doesn't have the presence of mind to release Jakel."
Julia nodded, calling upon the magicka within her. Conjuration was another School of magic in which she excelled, but she seldom had need to use anything stronger than the Flame Atronach. Now, however, she called forth a Wrathman – a summon from the Soul Cairn, which her father's friend Serana Volkihar had taught her years ago. Looking like an otherworldly draugr, with a sinister dark vapor arising from it through which glared two pinpoints of baleful blue light, the creature shambled forward and met the two archers on the ramp as Lydia lent support from her own bow.
Several minutes later, when the Wrathman shuddered out of existence, the two women headed cautiously up the ramp, but it was clear there were no more enemies here. Julia cast a Detect Life spell to be sure.
"One more up above," she informed the Steward.
"Probably out on the overlook, then," the older woman nodded. "What about that Dunmer?"
Julia cast it again and looked downward this time. "I don't see – oh, wait, there he is. He's coming back."
"Send that creepy draugr of yours after him," Lydia suggested. "Once he's taken care of, we can concentrate on the bandit leader, who is no doubt who we'll find outside."
The Wrathman that Julia sent this time did not fare as well, since the Dunmer invoked his innate ability to ignite himself with a Flame Cloak. He eliminated the Wrathman before it could do significant damage to him, and relentlessly pursued the two invaders to his lair. Behind him came Jakel, whom he must have freed on his way back up.
This time, however, Julia and Lydia held the high ground, and Julia cautioned the older woman to stick to ranged attacks.
"I have a few tricks up my sleeve," she confided.
She laid down several runes on the ramp before the two brigands emerged, then summoned a Storm Atronach in the center of the chamber. Seeing the summon, Jakel attempted to flee, but the Dunmer caught him by the collar and hauled him around.
"You're not going anywhere, you worthless n'wah," he growled. "Get in there and fight, damn you!"
Jakel twisted free, but couldn't get past his companion. Instead, he chose to flee up the ramp. As first one rune, then the next, exploded in elemental fury, Jakel was blown backwards as he reached the last one, and his lifeless body slid down the ramp to lay at the Dunmer's feet, who was doing everything in his power to defend himself from the Storm Atronach. It was pointless; he had no defense against shock attacks, and Lydia's marksmanship was deadly accurate.
"You're almost as good as your mother in combat," Lydia smiled when all was silent once more, and Julia beamed as they entered the tunnel that led to the overlook.
They emerged silently, and Julia saw a bald-headed Nord decorated with tattoos – or perhaps it was only war paint – seated at the railing on a wooden chair, gazing out towards the city of Whiterun in the distance. From here it was easy to see Dragonsreach rising majestically above the plain. A thin ribbon that was the main road stretched out to the west, but from their position by the entrance, Julia couldn't see the road below which they'd taken to get here.
He was a Nord, the Breton girl realized, and that meant that frost-based attacks would have little effect on him. As a race, Nords were generally immune to the cold, living as they did in the frostiest Province in Tamriel.
"It's time for you to pay for your crimes," Lydia announced as she advanced on him, sword and shield raised. She never faltered, even when the man pulled a huge warhammer off his back.
"I don't know how you got past all my crew in there," he growled, "but I'm gonna make you sorry you were ever born."
There was very little room to maneuver here, Julia realized. Moving out into the open would have been a death wish, with the reach the warhammer had. She was pinned down by the cave entrance, unable to do much to assist in taking the bandit chief out.
"Never underestimate the ability to influence others," she could almost hear Drevis Neloran, her Illusion Master tell her. "Whether they're friends or foes, they're almost all susceptible to Illusion spells. They can turn the tide of a battle in a moment's notice."
"The Restoration School," said Master Azura, "is one that most people only remember when they're injured. But if you are not actually doing the fighting, you can keep your allies strong by healing them of their injuries as they fight – provided you're within range, of course. This means they won't have to retreat to drink a potion, or cast a spell themselves."
This was what she needed to do, then, Julia realized. I have to keep Lydia in the fight.
And so she summoned her magic and cast Rally at the Steward, and channeled healing magic into the Nord woman to keep her from suffering at the hands of the bandit chief, who was clearly a seasoned warrior. When she had a clear shot, she cast firebolts at the man. She could have chosen more advanced Destruction magic, which would have dealt more damage, but she needed to be able to return to the healing and illusion spells which kept Lydia on her feet. Eventually, the bandit chief went to one knee, begging for mercy.
"No," Lydia growled. "I know your kind. You wouldn't grant it to anyone else. You don't deserve it." She ended the fight with a swift jab to his heart. He slumped to the rocks and his bright red blood spread on the stones.
Julia averted her eyes and swallowed hard. This was what it meant to be a defender, she knew. To help people who couldn't help themselves. This was what her father did. If she wanted to follow his path, she would need to get used to this.
"That's done," Lydia sighed, sitting herself down on the chair, breathing hard. "Thank you, Julia, for all the magical assistance. That was a tough fight!"
"Gregor said you had to come back," the younger girl smiled, but it faltered all the same. "What do we do now? Tell the Jarl it's done?"
"No," Lydia said. "We have to find that locket. Check that chest over there, by the snowberry bush. See if it's in there."
Julia tugged on the lid, but it didn't open.
"It's locked," she reported.
"So?" the older woman smiled. "Use your lockpicks. I know you have them, and I know you know how they work."
Her face flaming with repressed memories, Julia did as she was bid, and got the chest open after breaking a half dozen picks.
"We can see if Belethor has any more," Lydia suggested, though a taut look passed across her face. She didn't like the Breton shopkeeper; Julia had known that for most of her life.
There was quite a lot of gold, jewelry and bits of armor in the chest, including a gold band, intricately carved, that radiated strong magic. Julia could feel it even without casting a spell to detect it.
"There's something unusual about this ring," she commented, showing it to Lydia, but the older woman shrugged.
"I wouldn't know about that," she said. "Best hold on to it and show it to your mother when she gets back. She's almost certain to know. Is the locket in there?"
"No," Julia realized. "I don't see any silver lockets in here at all."
"Jakel must still have it on his person, then," Lydia surmised. "If he hasn't already fenced it, that is. We'll check his body on the way back down. For now, let's pack all this stuff up and take it with us."
They did indeed find an intricately-carved silver locket on Jakel's body, but when they reached the first chamber, they found the old man dead on the floor, his throat slit. Julia was shocked.
"Who could have done this?" she gasped. "He was blind! He was no threat to anyone!"
"Apparently not all these bandits felt that way," Lydia frowned. "There's nothing more we can do here. We'll inform the Jarl, and he'll send men up here to clear this place out and bury the dead."
They stopped at the Battle-born Farm on their way back to Whiterun and returned the silver locket to a very grateful Gwendolyn.
"Bless you both, young ladies," she murmured over and over again. "It's the only thing I have from my mother. It means so much to have it back again. Blessings of the Divines upon you both!"
Lydia was humming as they left.
"It feels good to do something nice for someone, doesn't it, Lydia?" Julia smiled.
"Yeah," the Steward acknowledged. "I feel like I did when I used to go on quests with your father. But that's not the best part," she added with a grin.
"Oh?" Julia queried. "What is it, then?"
The Nord woman's eyes took on a far-away look as she chuckled, "She called me 'young.'"