Chapter 4: Part 1 - The Type To Hold A Grudge

Erin had never spent much time around Archon Artair. Some of their years in the Priory had overlapped, but Erin had been too old to become one of Artair’s fresh new recruits and they’d never had any reason to work together. Artair had even resigned his position whilst Erin was out on a research mission; he’d been gone at least two weeks by the time she got back. After that, it was years until she thought anything more about him.

There had always been rumours, though. Every time Erin passed through one of the order’s common rooms, she’d hear someone whispering his name. Some of the whispers had certainly been complimentary, but a lot hadn’t. Artair wasn’t just strict with his trainees. He was downright sadistic.

But the Priory was less egalitarian than it wanted to be and Artair seemed to have friends in high places. After every disastrous mission, there’d be a period when Artair kept himself out of sight, but it wouldn’t be long before he was preparing for the next one.

Erin suspected it was because of Marissa that Artair had finally been forced out, though she didn’t think the mesmer knew it herself. Artair’s final mission to Orr had left that particular batch of recruits more traumatised than most ‒ and Erin could remember the furious arguments that had followed. Marissa was no ordinary recruit. Once she’d gone home, the Valparis had mounted a vitriolic campaign against Artair, threatening everything from legal action to what had sounded suspiciously like assassination attempts. In the end, even the Priory hadn’t been able to shield Artair from the wrath of Marissa’s family.

Which meant Erin hadn’t been at all surprised to discover that the Valparis, Marissa included, had somehow found themselves invited to take part in Yinn’s game.

Even the game might have been ancient history, though, if it wasn’t for Auri. Recruiting her both gave Artair a weapon and allowed him to inflict the most punishing emotional damage possible on the Valparis. He was, in Erin’s view, exactly the type to hold a grudge.

That didn’t matter to Erin, though. She wasn’t interested in vengeance, but there wasn’t a chance in a thousand that she’d give up Auri without a fight.

“I always thought it was a myth.” Oska’s disgruntled tone pulled Erin from her thoughts.

“What’s a myth?”

“That norn don’t feel the cold.” Oska’s words were muffled by the scarf he’d pulled up over his nose. “How can anyone live out here and actually enjoy it?”

Erin tipped her face up to the grey sky, feeling the caress of a handful of snowflakes. She wasn’t in the mood for laughter, but she did manage a weary smile. “If you think this is cold, you should try venturing into the Far Shiverpeaks.”

Oska’s voice became even more muffled. “I’d rather not.”

They’d walked, just the two of them, up the road from the south. It wasn’t the quickest route, but Erin had been eager to feel fresh snow under her boots. The rest of Light’s Memory had been given missions of their own, mostly to kill time. They’d had no word of Artair’s whereabouts in days and Taria had stopped responding to letters; according to Oska, she was on the move. Ruby seemed to be with her and had become equally uncommunicative. Even Amber, with her promise of keeping an eye on Marissa, hadn’t made contact again.

But Erin couldn’t sit around twiddling her thumbs, not least because that wasn’t what a real leader would do. Instead, she’d concocted a series of reconnaissance missions for the rest of the guild and suggested Oska join her on this one.

He finally poked his nose out of the scarf as they crossed Priory Bridge. “Do you really think we’re going to learn anything we don’t already know?”

“About Artair?” Erin fought the urge to draw her shoulders up to her ears. “Probably not.”

“Then what are we doing here?” Oska said, sounding so like Marissa that Erin finally let out a laugh.

“Every thread of research has to start somewhere. Without tracing Artair’s history all the way back to his pod, this is ours.”

“And once we know our enemy, we can cut him down?”

“Perhaps.” If she was honest with herself, Erin wasn’t sure what she hoped to learn about Artair. That he was arrogant? Dangerous? Driven by his own desire for power? She knew all that already. It was instinct that guided her now, though. Not the sort of thing a scholar was supposed to rely on, but it had never led her astray.

When they finally reached the Priory’s central hall, it was bustling with activity. An expedition had just returned and the ramp was busy with explorers greeting one another, backpacks and crates of research materials scattered on all sides. Erin came to a stop, hit by a wave of longing and nostalgia strong enough to steal her breath. This had been her life once and it hadn’t been a bad one. She was, officially, still a member of the Durmand Priory and sometimes… Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to return.

She only realised she’d been standing there too long when Oska jabbed her in the arm. “Well?” he demanded. “Are we going inside?”

Erin nodded slowly. “Let’s see if we can find anyone I know.”

Finding a friendly face took less time than Erin expected. They were halfway through the crowd formed by the returning expedition when someone caught Erin’s arm ‒ and this time, it wasn’t Oska.

“Erin? Is that really you?”

Erin turned, her mouth going dry. The norn staring back at her had the bluest eyes Erin had ever seen ‒ eyes she’d spent a long time trying to forget.

But Marta was relentless. “Erin Valhyrsdottir!” she exclaimed and drew Erin into a hug worthy of Bear.

They spent far longer than was really necessary pounding one another’s backs jovially. Eventually, Marta broke away, flicked her braid of ashen hair over one shoulder, and put her hands on her hips. “I never thought I’d see you back here ‒ though I also wasn’t sure why you left. I always thought you belonged in the Priory even more than I do.”

I left because of you. The words crowded Erin’s tongue but she left them resolutely unsaid. Marta had been determined to put their sole night together ‒ well, maybe more than one ‒ behind them. She’d wanted to maintain the friendship they both valued, which had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time…

Except, in the wake of their fling, Erin had spent six months taking every far-flung research mission she could get her hands on. She’d then been posted to Lion’s Arch for recuperation, only to ally herself with Amber at the first opportunity. She had, in hindsight, gone to quite extraordinary lengths to get over the woman now standing before her.

“Marta,” Erin said firmly, beckoning Oska, who was watching them both curiously. “This is Oska, one of my newest guild members.”

“You have a guild?” Marta raised one silvery eyebrow. “And it’s Archon Marta now, I’ll have you know.”

Marta’s tone was joking, but Erin could feel the pride radiating off her. For good reason, too. If Marta had risen to become an archon, she had every right to flaunt it.

“Congratulations.” Erin found herself hesitating. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to raise the matter of Artair, but there was no time like the present. “It’s actually another archon we’re here about. Do you remember a sylvari called Artair?”

Marta’s sun-burnished cheeks went suddenly pale. Her laugh sounded both forced and nervous. “That’s… not a name you should be bandying about.”

“We’re deadly serious,” Oska put in, with a glare that made him look much younger. “We need to know about Artair.”

Marta looked surprised by Oska’s vehemence, but Erin met her questioning look with a shrug. “He’s not wrong. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Marta pursed her lips. For a moment, Erin couldn’t look away ‒ but they were here for a reason and she had to remember that. There’d be time for flirting… Oh, when Auri was rescued and Artair safely locked behind a strong set of bars. Maybe then.

Or not. For all she knew, Marta was married and had three sturdy children by now, even if she was an archon.

Finally, Marta looked both ways, as though making sure they weren’t being observed. “You’d better come to my office. We can talk there.”

“You have an office now?”

Marta managed a lopsided grin. “Don’t get too excited. Just come with me.”