"Because our enemies stake their claim on the land and push us to its boundaries; therefore we stake our claim on all the world, now and for all time. This is no declaration of war, for war was declared long ago and not by us. It is a declaration that we will defend ourselves. Because we cannot leave the wilderness, the wilderness will never leave the world. We will make a new society, a society of the wilderness, a society of free people, respecting no land and suffering no lord. We will not be pariahs and pawns; we will be free. We will not be objects of scorn or pity; we will be respected. We will not be guests in someone else's world; we will be of the world!"

-Excerpted from the Adma Charter

244 YT, Winter: In the North of Gaurlante

The aches of Kotire’s wounds woke her from an uneasy slumber. She sat up in her cot, clutching at her hand where the bullet had grazed her. The wound, bound by bandages, still bled as a trickle – the bandage was beginning to soak red, but at least it had slowed. She glanced at the door to the outside – there were the snow-covered mountains to the north. Frigid air leaked through the doorway, but Kotire was warm under her blankets. A small heater, emitting steam into the surrounding air, sat partially inserted into the dirt under Kotire. She swung her feet off the side of her cot and started to rise.

As Kotire pulled on her uniform and straightened its sleeves out, she remembered something. It started with pain – a piercing pain in her stomach as though she was being stabbed. There was a brief moment of idle curiosity, followed by sudden panic, and then she calmed when she remembered where the pain had come from. It was only the memory of a dream.

In the dream she was walking through the Wanderer’s Vale, and she saw a friend in the distance. A friend clad in Invictan armor. She approached, babbling about something. They were both near-death with hunger and thirst, putting one foot in front of the other only because they knew that if they stopped they would not start again. In the dream Kotire approached her friend, and her friend closed the gap. The expression on the other soldier’s face was grim, humorless, staring at Kotire across the little stretch of air that separated them.

Kotire’s shock was cold and dull when her friend lashed out. The knife had been hidden behind her back. She dug it into Kotire’s gut and twisted, tore the armor’s plates from her, and stabbed again and again…

Kotire’s dream-like consciousness faded, but as it did, a thought occurred to her, oddly lucid for a dying mind.

She recognized the face of the one who was killing her – twisted with painful glee, a mask of hate and joy. It was one of the same soldiers who defended the wagon her cell had ambushed… but that was mere days ago.

She checked her sidearm, a pistol of Invictan make, and belted the holster to her hip. When the weapon was in place she tucked the edge of her uniform’s shirt over it, walked to the opening of her tent, and stepped out into the bright winter day.

Though there were flakes of snow in the air none of them stuck to the ground of the camp – warmed as it was by the tents and by a fire in the camp’s center. A series of pre-fabricated folding structures, metal and cloth and wood, were spaced around the field at the foot of the mountains. Some were little more than cloth tents with a bare skeleton of metal and wood inside, while others were plated with armor. Though the armor plates were light – all the better to fold into bundles and carry on the backs of vehicles or the backs of livestock or the backs of soldiers – they were nonetheless protective. Some of it was reverse-engineered Invictan tech, some Cresican innovations the Adma had carried north from the land of hills and caves.

At the south end of the camp stood Ranotia’s tent, the central war room of this cell’s operations. Kotire would need to go there quickly this morning, because if they were going to relay the Adma’s next plan to Mirshal, they needed to do it early enough not to interfere with their day’s movement. She thought of Aleks Zelenko, all the way in the north, in Kivv, and wondered if he was alright. It had been weeks since they’d talked – and Kotire was beginning to miss the Sower, as hard as that might be to admit. How could one miss somebody one had never spoken to in person? It was an odd thought – but it was also true.

Kotire walked to the center of the camp, past the small fire. It was kept going by an air-pump and an electric spark, a machine assemblage which tended the fire and kept it going for as long as there was wood left to place at the base of the flames. The fruitful mountains of northern Gaurlante provided plenty of small trees that could be torn down by hand. Their thin logs didn’t burn for long, but were surprisingly resilient, especially at a dry time of year like this. There were so many of the little trees it hardly mattered if they had to burn through them quickly. The land would provide far quicker than they could consume – and better them than the Invictans. Atop the flame, supported by a simple metal spit, was a pot of stew, simmering and bubbling lightly. The smell of it wafted throughout the camp, filled Kotire’s nostrils with savor.

Kotire was halfway to Ranotia’s tent when she noticed the doctor’s tent. Henryk was sitting at the entrance, apparently with no patients to tend, reading in an old book. He glanced up at Kotire as she passed, and she nodded. But then she found that she couldn’t break eye contact.

Hadn’t that dream been strange?

She walked to Henryk, who set his book on his knee, a finger inserted between the pages, and nodded at Kotire’s approach. “Is your hand feeling any better?” he asked as she came near him.

“I think the bleeding stopped overnight,” Kotire said.

“Blood as thin as yours is a bit unusual,” Henryk said in response. “You should have stopped bleeding when we put the bandage on, but it took this long to stop. Under normal circumstances, I’d say that soldiery might not be the best occupation for you if your blood doesn’t clot easily, but –“

“ – But I outrank you,” Kotire said with a grin. She sat down on the ground. “Except in medical matters. However, you know I’m not going to give up on the Adma just because of that.”

“If you ever get shot any more seriously than that graze, you might die,” Henryk said, his voice low.

“Well, bullets tend to do that to you.” Kotire shrugged. “Actually, though, I wanted to ask about something else. Something a bit weird has been happening and I thought you might be the one who could - ”

Henryk lowered his head and looked up at Kotire over the rims of his spectacles. “Well, don’t keep me waiting.” Though Henryk was a soft-spoken man his words carried a certain force in them. Kotire ceased beating around the bush and skipped straight to the point.

“I had a dream last night,” Kotire said, “and I think it may have been someone else’s memories.”

“And what happened in this dream?” Henryk took a small, folded sheet of paper from his pocket and put it into the book where his finger had held his place. He placed the book in a bag against the tent, turned back to Kotire, and leaned forward.

“I was an Invictan soldier, and I was killed by another Invictan. And the one who killed me, I recognized her. She was at the caravan we ambushed. She’s the one who gave me this.” Kotire held up her bandaged hand.

“And do you remember anything else of this person?”

Kotire’s face scrunched up with concentration. The memories were there, but they were distant, and jumbled, disorganized by death. She thought of the Adma soldier, remembered the burning pain in her hand, the piercing agony in her gut. “Zoe Bari,” she said, the name a hiss, barely above a whisper. “Her name is Zoe, and I trusted her. And she killed me.”

“And yet she’s still here, and alive.”

“I should have shot her in the head,” Kotire growled. “I should have killed her when I had the chance. Damn it, all I wanted was to leave war behind…” At that, Kotire blinked. “I…” Her heartbeat sped up. This wasn’t her, was it? “Henryk, am I… going to be influenced by these memories? Am I going to lose who I am?”

Henryk sighed and stood up. “You’re probably going to be fine, Kotire. You’ll have to learn to adapt to the memories. Once you acquire inherited memories, they won’t go away, but you’re unlikely to experience anything more intense than your dream last night. It is unusual, though…”

“What’s unusual?”

Henryk shook his head. “I’ve had a lot of patients grappling with newly acquired inherited memories, but they’re usually from individuals who lived in the fading days of the old world. Not Invictan soldiers.”

“These memories can’t be that old, either,” Kotire said. “If Zoe is still alive, and… I mean, she looks the same as I remember from when she…”

“That’s just it. It’s unusual to experience the memories of somebody who died so recently. It’s not unheard of, but there might be some… worrying side effects. Negative effects are much more common in these cases… but my recommendation would be this: when you get the chance, come and talk to me about your memories. I can help you work through them, even give you drugs to suppress them as a last resort if that’s necessary.” Henryk glanced toward the flap of his tent. “Do you have time to stay and talk for a while?”

“Just for a few minutes,” Kotire said. “I have to talk to Ranotia.” Henryk nodded at that.

“Alright, then after that perhaps? Look, there is some potential danger here, so I’m just worried for you, that’s all. Most of the time when people get inherited memories, they’re remembering the world as it was long in the past. It’s hard to get those memories confused with the present world. Sure, sometimes there are moments of overlap, moments that bring the memories out more strongly, but if the life of the one you remember is recent… those moments of confusion might be more common. I don’t know what effects that will have, so…”

“I’ll let you know if anything weird happens,” Kotire said. “In the meantime, can you please tell me that I’m not going to spontaneously… I don’t know, lose my sanity?”

Henryk scoffed. “As if you were ever sane in the first place.”

“Shut up, I’m serious.”

“It’s doubtful you’ll have any major changes without some kind of warning ahead of time. Relax, you aren’t going to turn into an Invictan overnight. I just want you to monitor any dreams you might have, let me know if you notice anything else popping up in your memories that wouldn’t have otherwise. And…” Henryk glanced in the direction of Ranotia’s tent. “Unless and until your memories become sufficiently relevant to your mission, I would suggest not discussing this topic with Ranotia. You know, those above you might not understand or take kindly to an officer behaving in ways that could… cast doubt on her ability to carry out her normal duties.”

Kotire nodded quickly. “Right. Okay. Take care, Henryk.”

“Yep. You too.” Henryk sat back down in his chair and bent backward, reaching for the book inside its bag. Kotire turned, quickly crossed the space through the center of camp and stood by Ranotia’s tent.

The largest tent in the camp was covered in plates so well-spaced that one could hardly tell, looking at the outer layer of cloth, that there was armor underneath. Kotire pushed the flap aside and glanced into the tent. A large table was set up in the center of the room, on which was a sketched map of the area surrounding Kurikuneku.

“I’m telling you, the best way into the city is not to actually enter the city at all,” Hakios said. “At least at first. You ever taken a look at that place at night? It’s lit up like the Seventh Festival all year round. Nobody is getting into that city under normal circumstances without being spotted.”

“Can’t we just steal Invictan uniforms and get in there by –“

“No, absolutely not.” Ranotia cut Strybeos off with a wave of his hand. “We’ll be caught immediately. Invictans keep extremely close track on all their people. Documents, pictures of their faces, fingerprints even. There’s no chance of us bluffing our way past the front door. But Kurikuneku has an underground, and there are ways in that don’t require walking in through the city’s actual gates.”

Hakios nodded. “Yes, but it’s still better if we remain at the outskirts of the city for a time, and get Invictan uniforms. Then we can sneak into the city before security tightens up in response to a missing patrol, and we’ll use the uniforms if we really need to but otherwise we can pose as civilians. It’ll be safer, won’t it?”

“Yes,” said Ranotia. “They aren’t nearly as strict with checks on civilians as on military personnel, for obvious reasons. We’ve learned that the hard way from past attempts by other Adma groups to infiltrate Kurikuneku. It hasn’t gone well for any of the others.”

“And by that, you mean that they were all captured?” Kotire entered the room, placed her hands on the table and leaned forward.

“I mean Kurikuneku spiked their our spies’ heads to the walls and broadcast their screams over our radio channels.”

Kotire shivered at that. “And you want to sneak into Kurikuneku even after that? What exactly do we stand to gain at this point, rather than just staying here by the pass or taking Carakhte?”

Ranotia blinked a few times at Kotire. “Yes, it’s risky, but so is everything we do. The Emperor is planning something, folks. The Invictans are going to be invading the Vale again soon, we just don’t know exactly when they intend to make their move – or whether we’re delaying them meaningfully by holding the pass. They haven’t been crossing the sea for some reason, even though they could probably get around us and manage that. And we don’t know whether they have the capacity to travel through the air, but if they do there isn’t much we can do to stop them except try to shoot their vehicles down.”

Kotire gestured to the quietly whirring machine at the back of the tent. “Well, we can do that.”

“Yes,” Ranotia said, his exasperation clear by his tone. “with extremely low accuracy. We can’t stop the invasion by just camping out here.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Kotire shot back. “We take Carakhte. It’s their staging ground. This matches their pattern in other territories. Every time they’ve tried to expand further into the Crescent Land, this is how they do it!”

Strybeos nodded. “That’s true,” he said. “When I was there, I saw it…”

“Taking Carakhte will prevent the invasion of the Vale for now, but it will also put the entire Empire on guard. And their force is overwhelming when they focus it – we can’t rely on our numbers to hold out against theirs.” Ranotia breathed a heavy sigh. “Hakios. If we move camp to Kurikuneku how many do you think it will take to infiltrate Kurikuneku?”

“Four or five will be a good size for an infiltration group,” Hakios said. “The rest can remain outside as support, or even move camp to another location until a planned rendezvous. If we’re going to travel there I will draw up more thorough plans during the journey. In the meantime, I don’t think Kotire is entirely wrong. We should take Carakhte if we get the chance, but our taking of Carakhte should happen after the infiltration group enters Kurikuneku.”

“Why’s that?” Ranotia asked.

“Because if they are going to respond with heavy force to the taking of Carakhte, then a massing of troops could be a signal to our spies in Kurikuneku that it’s time for them to get out. And it could also make it easier for them to get out too.”

“Then I could lead one group to take Carakhte while Hakios leads another group to infiltrate Kurikuneku,” Kotire said.

“No,” Ranotia said.

Kotire blinked. “What?”

Ranotia shook his head. “You’re coming with us on the infiltration team.”

Kotire laughed. “Wouldn’t I be better suited to helping take Carakhte? I’ve led these troops in direct battle, I know how to –“

“You’re coming on the infiltration team because I trust your judgment in tense moments, and because you’re one of the best fighters we have.” Ranotia drummed his fingers on the table – a sure sign of his growing annoyance. He did not appreciate Kotire’s near-insubordination.

She sighed, shrugged ,and nodded. “Alright, fine. But don’t blame me if this backfires.”

“I’m your commanding officer,” he said. “I take responsibility for everything that goes wrong around here. You don’t have to rub that in. Now go and start packing up, and I want you to set standing orders for Strybeos while we’re gone. The three of us are going to Kurikuneku.”

Hakios chuckled. “Shouldn’t we have a support group come with us to wait outside the city?”

“No,” Ranotia said. “We need that group here, for Carakhte. The three of us will manage on our own.”

“Three? I said four or five would be a good size!”

“Do you want to bring Strybeos along?”

No one said anything to that. Strybeos wasn’t a bad soldier, and he was trustworthy, but he had no special training that would help him on a mission like this. Hakios rubbed his temples and looked over at Kotire. “What do you think of this, Kotire?”

Catching Ranotia’s warning glare, Kotire sighed and looked down. “It’s the best option we have unless we can get in contact with another cell for reinforcements. Can we do that?”

“Probably, yes, but not immediately,” Ranotia said. “Actually, Strybeos, if you could do that – explain the situation to whomever you can get in contact with in the next few days – see if they can come to Kurikuneku, rendezvous with us outside the city…”

Strybeos nodded. “I’ll do what I can, but you know I can’t promise –“

“No promises expected.”

Strybeos nodded.

“Kotire,” Ranotia continued. “Get going.”

She nodded and headed out of the tent with Strybeos. As she explained the orders for watching over the pass, dealing with the scouts, creating a plan to take Carakhte and acting on that plan, Strybeos nodded along. Kotire trusted he was absorbing everything she said, but she still handed him a recording of the audio of their conversation when they were done – a small pocket recorder slipped out of a pocket during their walk. Strybeos went to begin explaining the situation to others, while Kotire walked to the edge of camp and looked out over the hills at the distant skyline of Kurikuneku.

Henryk… I hope you’re just being overcautious, because it looks like I won’t be seeing you for a while…