LeBeau was partway through the tunnel towards the memorial chamber, holding back his tears and the growing sobs. He didn't blame Carter; as far as LeBeau was concerned, it had been his fault that he hadn't been able to help Newkirk that day—he had been right next to him! Carter had probably been carrying this sentiment for five years, and finally snapped and spoken it…
A slight cry burst forth from LeBeau's lips as he collided with one of his companions.
"Olsen?" he asked, not expecting to see him here.
"What are you doing back here?" asked Olsen. "I thought you were on your way to the Altes Schloss with Carter and the colonel."
LeBeau nodded; he still intended on going, but he wanted to get rid of whatever pain he could before he had to leave.
"I was just…" he began. "André said…" He trailed off, the crushing weight on his shoulders growing more and more massive, and he buried his face in his hands.
Olsen's eyebrows arched. Not wanting to force the Frenchman to say anything he didn't want to, he was tempted to let the matter pass, but Olsen had seen in LeBeau's eyes a hurt that he had never seen him harbor before. As much as LeBeau had hated being a captive of the Germans during the war, there was no doubt that their underground operation made life bearable for the patriotic Frenchman. And Newkirk had been a large part of that equation. In fact, the past five years of hiding out and struggling to survive while staying hidden was probably bringing back memories of the war, and that, in turn, was making Newkirk's absence all the more unbearable.
Olsen sighed now. Though he had worked with Newkirk on their missions several times, he knew that he was never as close to him as LeBeau and Carter had been. That wasn't to say that he didn't miss Newkirk himself, though.
"You have my sympathy for your loss—our loss," he said to the Frenchman. "Newkirk was a buddy of mine, too."
"I could have done something," LeBeau said, struggling to hold the last vestiges of his shell together. "I should have done something!"
"Come on, LeBeau," said Olsen. "You think I didn't beat myself up about this? We all feel as though we let Newkirk down."
LeBeau looked up at him, looking questioningly at him for a moment. Suddenly, the Frenchman's eyes widened in realization. He understood what Olsen was trying to say; he, LeBeau, was not the only one mourning the Englishman's death. They all were; that was why the team was so shaky now without him.
"I am sorry," he said. "I was so caught up in my own grief, I did not stop to think…" LeBeau trailed off, hesitating. "Forgive me, Olsen. André has every right to be upset; I probably made him feel as though I was the only one who had the right to keep on mourning Pierre."
Olsen bowed his head. "There's no reason to apologize. I don't think any of us can stop ourselves from thinking what Newkirk would be doing with him if he was here. The plans we'd be making with him… the crazy things he'd be doing, like stealing from Veran's minions. You know he would…"
"We would probably be forcing him to dress up as Frau Newkirkberger again," LeBeau added. Despite himself, he managed a smiled. "Pierre always hated that disguise with a passion."
"Well, can you blame him?" Olsen asked. "He was good at a lot of things, but he made for one very ugly woman!"
LeBeau chuckled, and then felt disgusted with himself for doing to.
Olsen sighed, looking towards the direction of the shrine.
"Newkirk saved my life once," he said, quietly. "We were out on a mission in Hammelburg to meet with a member of the Underground—it was one of the first times we had gone to town. The meeting was going fine, but all of a sudden, an air raid siren went off." Olsen shook his head. "The next thing I knew, there were explosions going off all around us, and soldiers and civilians running everywhere; I was certain that if the air raid didn't get me, I'd be trampled by the crowd. Newkirk kept his head the entire time; he made sure our contact and I made it through safely."
"Pierre was always like that," LeBeau agreed. "He never put his own life first; if he had known what that terrible amethyst was going to do to him, he would've seized it anyway to stop the rest of us from being taken by Veran."
"I know," said Olsen. "That's one of the reasons why I feel I owe it to him to go on that scouting mission the colonel mentioned."
"Scouting mission? When did he mention that?" the Frenchman asked.
"It was shortly before you joined us for the meeting," Olsen explained. "That Hylian kid had mentioned how this Nayru might know where Veran is and how to stop her. Colonel Hogan was saying that he was thinking of having two of us go scout the area to see what we're up against. I was going to volunteer because of the debt I feel I owe Newkirk. You probably feel the same way. Since the colonel was thinking of sending two scouts…"
He trailed off, and the Frenchman looked to him, his eyes widening.
"What are you saying?" he asked. "That you and I go if we find a location?"
Olsen gave a nod. "For Newkirk."
LeBeau closed his eyes, thinking of Newkirk. The day they met in the cooler… Arguing whether or not London was better than Paris… The numerous missions they had gone on… The gin games…
The Frenchman opened his eyes again, staring back at Olsen. He nodded.
"For Pierre," he agreed.
They may not be able to change the past, but they had a chance to change the future. And LeBeau vowed that he would.
Once Carter and LeBeau had felt themselves ready to go, they caught up with the colonel. LeBeau did not speak of what he and Olsen had decided to do; he was going to bring that up if and when Nayru was able to tell them where to find Veran.
Both NCOs were silent as Hogan managed to commandeer a car and drive them towards the Altes Schloss. They eventually arrived at an old, ruined castle.
"You mean this is it?" Carter asked, sounding briefly like his old self as he saw the ruin. "This is where that lady's hiding out? The only thing standing is the keep!"
"Can you think of a better place to hide?" Hogan mused, also sounding slightly like his old self. "If you're being hounded, where else would you hide than a place that nobody would think to look for you?"
"Yeah, I guess so," the sergeant agreed. He looked around, nervously.
LeBeau gasped as he pointed at a several sets of indents in the ground—footfalls from people who had recently come by.
"These footfalls are here, and the door of the keep has been left ajar," he said, opening the door further to reveal the darkened hallway. "Someone was here—and whoever it was used the dark to move unseen."
Hogan frowned, looking into the darkened entryway of the keep, and then froze as he heard a flap of wings.
"Down!" he ordered, motioning for the others to duck.
They did so, in time to dodge a swooping monster bat. LeBeau cursed the creature, regretting that there was nothing that he could make out of bat meat.
"Quickly," said Hogan, as soon as the bat was out of sight and the path ahead was clear. "I just hope we aren't too late."
He took several steps forward into the keep, aiming a flashlight around.
"Colonel, look out ahead!" Carter called.
Hogan froze as a dozen armored, sword-wielding skeletal monsters emerged from the shadows, illuminated by the beam of light.
"Oh, boy…" the colonel muttered. Fighting against mortal soldiers during the war had been difficult enough; fighting against these undead Stalfos was going to be nigh impossible.
That didn't mean that they weren't going to try. Bullets began to fly at the skeletons. While the barrage halted the attacks of the Stalfos he took on, it merely knocked them down and put them out of commission for only a few minutes of a time. LeBeau and Carter now arrived by his side to help, temporarily downing more skeletons with their own weapons. It was all they needed, though, to get away from them.
"Spread out and search for the girl!" Hogan ordered. "Just take them down and keep running before they get up again!"
The three soldiers split up, Carter ducking into a room which was quiet. The sergeant sighed, relived for a chance to catch his breath. He chose this moment to reload his gun, and looking over his charges. He had brought weak charges, knowing that there was a chance that they would be battling inside the keep, but he hadn't expected the castle to be as ruined as it was. Setting off even the smallest charge could result in bringing down a good portion of the keep—right on top of them.
After successfully loading his weapon, Carter pulled out a flashlight and began to slowly guide the beam around the room.
"Nothing here…" he murmured.
And that was when he heard the soft, sinister chuckle coming from the back of the hall.
"Are you so certain?" the voice said.
"Who's there?" Carter demanded, frantically moving the flashlight beam with one hand and holding his weapon in the other.
"Perhaps I should ask you the same question," the soft voice purred.
At last, Carter's flashlight beam fell upon the Masked Shadow.
"You!" the sergeant fumed, his eyes beginning to fill with anger.
"Ah, yes, one of the resistance—the one with the slow mind and the fast feet," the Masked Shadow chuckled. "Though not fast enough to escape arrows, it seems…"
Carter absently felt the scar on his face, his rage increasing the more he heard the man speak. "I still got away—guess that doesn't say much about you."
The Masked Shadow hesitated. He had stopped the attack after the man had been injured. He wasn't sure why, nor was he sure why he had let the man escape when he could have easily captured him or taken him down altogether.
"Well," the Masked Shadow purred as Carter took a few steps forward, aiming his gun at him. "I won't be making that mistake again."
Carter froze as the flashlight was briefly reflected in a piece of metal in the Masked Shadow's hands—he had drawn a small knife. Had the light in the room been better, Carter would've recognized it as a very familiar throwing knife; as it was, he did not.
The Masked Shadow threw the knife. Carter, by reflex, moved his hand to protect the rest of his body, resulting in the knife striking the gun, knocking it right out of his hand.
There was a clattering sound as both the gun and the knife went scooting along the stone floor, and the Masked Shadow cursed under his breath.
The Masked Shadow ran forward; perhaps he was trying to find his knife before Carter found the gun. But Carter wasn't even looking for it—he threw a punch at the Masked Shadow, his fist landing right on the man's chin.
The Masked Shadow was knocked back several feet, and he retreated to the shadows, leaving Carter to look around with the flashlight beam for him.
"You run like a coward!" Carter yelled. "You probably work for Veran so that you can get a cut of her Second Age of Shadows deal!"
"You say that as though it was a bad thing," the Masked Shadow said.
"Of course it's a bad thing!" Carter snarled. "This isn't how the world is supposed to be! The world is supposed to be a place full of light and hope—and it was before that witch took over!"
"You, clearly, will never understand," the Masked Shadow hissed.
"I sure as heck will never understand!" Carter retorted. "Not after she murdered my friend! I'll never understand that! I'll never understand why he vanished without a trace or why I never even got a chance to say goodbye!" He clenched his fists as he glared at the Masked Shadow, unable to see the irony of what he was about to say. "And I'll tell you this—if he were still here, he'd give you what for!"
"If your friend is dead, then Veran had good reason to see that it happened that way. Perhaps your friend would have brought misfortune upon the world, and Veran had to save the world from him."
"The only misfortune is her!" Carter retorted. "And you and anyone else who works for her!"
"If you keep living in your delusion," the Masked Shadow warned. "You won't be continuing to do so for much longer."
He lunged, still without a weapon, but Cater was ready. The sergeant elbowed the Masked Shadow in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and he followed up with a karate chop across the Masked Shadow's shoulders which floored the man.
When the Masked Shadow did not rise, Carter assumed that he was knocked out. The sergeant moved to apprehend the man, but the second he leaned over, the Masked Shadow suddenly rose, launching into an uppercut as he did so, which now sent Carter across the empty room, where he lay stunned.
The Masked Shadow now strode over to him, pausing as he stepped on what turned out to be his own throwing knife. He picked up the knife, now striding towards Carter again. He would take care of this one, now… wound him so that he could take him to Veran…
"Carter? Carter!" Hogan's voice called from outside.
"André, where are you?"
The Masked Shadow cursed again. So, his Stalfos has failed in stopping them and in finding Nayru? The Masked Shadow knew he was now outnumbered; he was not going to try anything else tonight.
The cloaked man made a break for the door, pushing past the shocked colonel and corporal so quickly that he had vanished before they even realized who he was.
Carter shook the cobwebs from his head as he struggled to rise, the Masked Shadow's retreating footsteps ringing in his ears.
"Get back here!" the sergeant ordered. "Don't run from me!"
"It's too late Carter; he's out of here," Hogan said, helping the sergeant to his feet
LeBeau followed him, nearly stepping on the gun that had fallen during the fight. He picked it up, handing it back to the younger American.
"I almost had him," Carter said, with a shake of his head. "I almost had that Masked Shadow, Colonel. He was faking being knocked out and knocked me across the room."
"Well, just be glad that was the worst that happened to you," Hogan sighed.
"Are you hurt?" LeBeau asked.
"I'll be fine," Carter assured him, massaging his jaw.
"That's good to hear," a new, female voice said.
The three soldiers turned to see a lady in blue creeping through the doorway.
Hogan stared at her for a moment before giving a nod of understanding.
"You're Nayru," he said. It wasn't a question. "You may as well know why we're here."
"You came looking for me for information on how to defeat Veran? Yes, I surmised as much; you, clearly, are not the only ones who are aware that I have this valuable information. My barrier was successful in keeping Veran's minions out until today," the lady said, glancing in the direction that the Masked Shadow had fled.
"That's about the size of it," said Hogan. "My name is Colonel Robert Hogan; I was the head of a resistance operation in the last war, and I'm running one again now. But this all started after one of my men vanished when he picked up an amethyst—"
"I see," Nayru said, cutting him off. "I was afraid of this…"
"Afraid of what?" LeBeau asked, his heart growing still.
"Veran magically connected herself to your friend when he touched that amethyst. She created a body for herself at his expense—using his life force to provide her own strength, like a parasite."
The Frenchman stared at her in horror.
"What do you think happened to him?" he asked.
"It is impossible to say," said Nayru, being completely honest. "It depends on how much of his life energy Veran is using for herself. Your friend could have been consumed by the darkness if she decided to spare his life. Or he could be dead, with his spirit imprisoned somewhere. I'm afraid that I do not have the answers."
All hope left LeBeau, and Carter, as well. If Nayru held no hope now that Newkirk was alright, then he probably was not.
"Do you think he could still hear us if we tried to talk to him?" Carter asked.
Nayru shrugged helplessly.
"When Veran last struck, she merely possessed me, forcing me to do what her spirit willed," she said. "She did not try to use my life force as she did with your friend, so I cannot tell you what would become of her host in this case."
LeBeau murmured something in his own tongue and turned away, losing every last shred of hope he had struggled to hold onto for this long. Carter looked like he was crushed and furious at the same time, and Hogan just stared at Nayru with an unreadable expression.
"It's better that you didn't sugarcoat it," the colonel said at last. "Thank you for telling us this. If what you say is true, and there really is no hope for him, then we have to get rid of her for his sake."
"I am happy to inform you that I do know the way to stop Veran," said Nayru. "Veran's spell may have brought her greater power, but she is now, once again, a mortal."
"Because of Peter," Carter fumed, punching the stone wall in his anger. "She's only mortal because she stole Peter's life energy!"
Nayru gave him a look.
"Sorry… ma'am…"
"Your anger is justified," she said. "Use it against Veran, but do not lose yourself in the process. Since Veran is mortal again, all you would need to do is slay her. But there is limited time. Veran continues to amass more power as the days go on; she is seeking the gain enough power so that she may become immortal."
"We've got to stop her!" Carter exclaimed. "Colonel, did you hear that? "
"Yes," Hogan said, frowning. "I was told that you would know where Veran is, and how to get there."
"I do," Nayru said. "She is ruling from the top of Ambi's Tower in Labrynna. As for how to get there… You will not be able to get there as easily as you were able to get here. Labrynna is an island."
"We can get access to a plane," Hogan said. Klink had managed to pull enough strings to grant them access to an old plane, should they ever need one.
"Good. I have a friend who has already snuck into the town of Hammelburg; she has a map and other items you will find useful," said Nayru. "Her name is Din. We can arrange a meeting tomorrow, and we can combine my knowledge with her items to better prepare you for your fight, though you may wish to scout ahead first."
"Yeah; that was the idea I had in mind," Hogan said.
"Which reminds me, Colonel," said LeBeau, the haunted look in his eyes not leaving him since hearing Nayru's grim outlook for Newkirk. "Olsen and I have volunteered to be the scouts."
"You what?" Carter asked, stunned. "Just like that?"
"We'll discuss this when we get back," Hogan said. He turned to Nayru. "What will you do?"
"It won't be safe for me here," Nayru said. "My friend Din is at a place called the Hausnerhof; I will join her there."
"Right," said Hogan. "We'll drop you off there on our way back, and I'll have someone send for the both of you in the morning; they'll guide you to our base in Stalag 13."
Nayru nodded.
"Let's get going," the colonel ordered.
They were one step closer to defeating Veran, they knew. But that did not lift the crushing weight off of their heavy hearts.
"Milady," the Masked Shadow said as he bowed before Veran. He flinched—his shoulder was still hurting from Carter's karate chop. He didn't notice that Veran, too, was massaging her shoulder. Onox, however, noticed, and the pieces were beginning to come together for him.
"What happened?" Veran inquired.
"Milady, the resistance 'as found Nayru," he said.
Veran's eyes blazed. A curse upon those meddlesome fools! "And they hurt your shoulder?"
"One of them did, Milady—the slow-headed one," he said, massaging his shoulder. "But… 'ow did you know?"
"Never mind how I knew," she said. "You may retire for the evening; I shall figure out our next course of action. If they do get Nayru's information, they may try coming here. And we must be ready."
"Of course, Milady," said the Masked Shadow. He retreated to his room as Veran pondered over a glass of wine.
"Very interesting," Onox smirked. "He gets hit on the shoulder, and you feel the pain along with him?"
Veran froze, but glanced at Onox, annoyed. "Just what does that have to do with anything?" she insisted. "He is my heir, and there is nothing else to the matter."
"Nothing… except that now I am beginning to understand why you coddle this mortal so much," Onox said, with a grin. "Whatever happens to him also happens to you, isn't that right?" His grin grew as Veran became more angered. "Aha, so this is that mortal whose life energy you've tapped into? That is how you returned and grew to such power, is it not?"
"Leave me, Onox, I wish to be alone," she said. Her eyes narrowed. "And if I even see you attempt to inflict any harm on my heir, you will be encased in stone and sunken into the Sea of Storms!"
Onox's grin vanished; he knew that Veran was not bluffing. He was expendable in her reign; apparently, the only one who was not expendable was this Englishman she fawned over.
"As you wish," Onox said, bowing as he retreated from her.
Veran went back to her glass of wine, confident that Onox would not attempt anything. Yes, it was true that she was using the Englishman's life energy to sustain herself. But she would ensure that no harm befell him; he was much more useful alive as her eyes and ears. And she was also pleased that the Englishman's encounter with that younger member of the resistance was so highly confrontational. That was a good sign—the Englishman's memories were sealed away for good, and she, Veran, had transformed him to someone whom not even those closest to him could recognize.
Her lips were smiling as she raised the glass to them. She would have to see to it that the next confrontation between the Englishman and his former comrades ended with him destroying them.