Hammelburg, Germany

Carter climbed down the ladder into the tunnel system, following Corporals Newkirk and LeBeau. Distantly, he heard Kinchloe saying, "All's going well in Belgium, sir. A couple of convoys were stopped yesterday, one south of the Ardennes and one north."

"Almost makes me feel like we're not needed," Hogan replied with a slight smile.

"Actually, sir, we are. The German army had plans to leave from Würzburg to the Ardennes today, but every forecast is saying really bad snow is going to hit in a couple of hours."

"So we hit them while they're still here."

"We won't be able to if we're snowed in as well. London said to hold off on all operations until things are clear."

Hogan sighed. "Well, as long as the Germans can't move either." He looked up to see the others had arrived. "Forget it. We're off until London says otherwise."

Carter wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or not. "No missions at all, Colonel?"

"No missions at all," Hogan said. "The weather's going to get bad today, so that means no going into town for anything."

"I was hoping to go to Stalag VII C to meet with Lechner for Christmas," Carter said.

"Sorry, Carter. No can do, unless Lechner wants to come here. At least he was made to survive this kind of weather." Hogan gave Carter a curious look. "Has Veidt sent anything lately?"

"No, sir. I haven't heard from Veidt since he sent me a Thanksgiving letter last month. Nothing mission-related."

"I hope they're doing okay down in Augsburg," Hogan said. "I imagine they have their hands full with new POWs."

"I'm sure they're fine, Colonel," Kinchloe replied. "They would've sent something if they needed help. Crows and ravens are a lot more secure than radios."

"Yeah, but I don't think London wants to suddenly switch over to housing birds. That, and the Germans would get suspicious if all radio traffic suddenly stopped."

"Good point, Colonel."

"Anyway, we're still going to disrupt that convoy one way or another. As soon as the weather lets up, Hogan's shoveling service will be in business—with a twist."

"What kind of twist?" Carter asked.

"Each truck is going to have a little extra package: a box of ammunition with dynamite buried inside." Hogan squeezed Carter's shoulder. "You have enough supplies?"

"How many vehicles, Colonel?"

"Ten trucks, and two staff cars."

Carter paused. "Do we know what's in the convoy? Is this all supplies, or—"

"No troops. Just guns and ammunition."

"Carter, why do you have to be such a bleeding-heart?" Newkirk asked.

Carter shot him a glare. "Because I'm not blowing up a bunch of young boys who didn't have a choice in this."

Silence fell over the tunnel. Carter had made his position clear when the group learned that the Germans lowered their conscription age, but there were far too many cases where it was unclear what the composition of any troop trains or convoys were, unless it was explicitly stated in their mission. Carter didn't admit it to anyone aside from Kinchloe and Veidt, but it was getting harder, not easier, to plant bombs in places where it was a guarantee that people would die.

"Like I just said," Hogan said. "There are no troops in this convoy. Just supplies."

Carter nodded, believing Hogan.

"What about the bloody drivers?" Newkirk asked.

"Lay off, Newkirk," Hogan said, firmly but gently.

Part of Carter immediately regretted saying anything, and he headed down to his lab to start working on the dynamite.

Augsburg, Germany

The SS soldiers kept Moffitt's hands tied behind his back and a blindfold around his head for the duration of the long drive back into Germany. So far, it hadn't been that much more different to being captured by the Germans in North Africa, except the Afrika Korps tended to be gentler and didn't slap Moffitt if he ever sneezed. At one point after being struck, a metallic scent filled his nose, and the sensation of something dripping told Moffitt he was bleeding. Unable to pinch the bridge of his nose, Moffitt began silently praying for the bleeding to stop.

When the truck stopped, Moffitt was made to stand and roughly pulled out of the vehicle. Stop trying to tell yourself that everything will be fine and Troy will come to the rescue. I'm over a hundred miles away, Anah has been incapacitated, and I'm about to face the full brutality of the SS. I'm not fine. I'm as good as dead. He swallowed nervously as he was walked into a building. The taste of blood was still strong, but at least the bleeding itself had stopped.

He was walked deep into the building, and down several flights of stairs. It was cold up until they reached the bottom and entered into a space with heat radiating from all sides. Here, a familiar voice growled, "Take his blindfold off."

One of the guards took the blindfold off. Moffitt blinked as his vision adjusted to the dim room, and a knot of dread tightened in his stomach when he saw Sturmbannführer Augenstein standing in front of him. The last time he had actually seen Augenstein, the SS officer had revealed his true nature as an electric Conjurus by attempting to electrocute Moffitt. In any other circumstance, Moffitt would have died, but Anah kept him clinging to life while the Rat Patrol teamed up with Dietrich's men to drive the Sorcery Division out.

Moffitt's gaze shifted to the crutches under Augenstein's arms. He hadn't been present to see one of Dietrich's lieutenants, Wintsch, hit Augenstein with a Kübelwagen and then run over his legs. He was surprised to see Augenstein up and walking at all, after hearing about what happened from Troy.

"I do believe this is our first chance to speak in person, Sergeant," Augenstein said. "Best of all, you do not have your friends, or Dietrich, or your snake to help you."

"Right. Shock me now and get it over with, then," Moffitt replied.

"You and the snake have something I want first. The secrets of the pendant you wore." Augenstein turned to the Hauptsturmführer who headed Moffitt's capture. "Put the cobra in the restraints. Make sure they are tight before she is released."

"What do you think you can get out of her?" Moffitt asked. "She will not cooperate."

"We will make her cooperate. That is where you come in."

"You are sadly mistaken if you think I am going to cooperate."

"You will not even have to move. I have a number of… ideas that will ensure swift cooperation." Augenstein motioned to the guards. "Remove his coat and hang him by his wrists."

As Moffitt was being chained, the Hauptsturmführer returned, followed by two guards carrying a long table. On the table was a glass tank. Anah had been secured in the tank with metal rings. "She is ready, sir."

"Good." Augenstein handed the younger man a crude-looking club. "Use this if the sergeant speaks out of turn."

"Yes, sir." The Hauptsturmführer took his place next to Moffitt.

Augenstein limped over to the tank, admiring his prize. "She paid the price for her arrogance, and I will ensure she never forgets it. I searched the sands of North Africa for magic artifacts, and never once did I think this would be the most valuable of them all." He placed his hand on the lid of the tank. Blue electricity suddenly spread down to the rings holding Anah in place. The ice began to fade and melt. Moffitt held out hope that Anah would break free of her restraints, but once the ice had disappeared, she was struggling, but unable to break out.

"At least you have not lost your fight, snake," Augenstein said.

Anah hissed at him. "This is what you had to resort to?"

"There is much more to it than just the restraints. They are designed to enhance the current of my own electrical attacks, enough to cause pain to you."

"Such things are not possible!"

"Not with ordinary magic. It took a great deal of effort, but with that and several necromancers, we made this possible." Augenstein grinned a little. "I told you that we would find a way to control forces like you."

"You lack one key piece in that—control. You will never be able to control me."

"We will see." Augenstein glanced at Moffitt. "Your friend here will be subjected to torture until you tell me what I want to know."

"Whatever you have prepared, it will not break him."

"I am not talking about beatings. I have something much more… special in mind." Augenstein produced a tiny jar containing a brownish liquid. "This is a potion made primarily with the beans of the castor plant. If I introduce this directly into the sergeant's bloodstream, death is instantaneous. If I make him drink it, death will take several hours, and is extremely painful. His body will begin to dehydrate from the inside quite rapidly. I would describe the intimate details, but I would much rather you see for yourself. Unless, of course, you tell me how that pendant works."

There was a conflicted look on Anah's face, and Moffitt didn't like it.

South of the Ardennes, Belgium

It came as a surprise to Troy that the German major who surrendered to him was actually staying and fighting back against his own people, and he was quite a good shot with the Thompson. Troy couldn't help but feel there was something else going on, but couldn't tell if it was a good or bad feeling. The throbbing pain in his left shoulder wasn't exactly making it easy to think. He had taken off his scarf to use as a makeshift bandage, and after wrapping it around his shoulder, he pulled on it tightly to apply as much pressure as possible.

"Damn it, where're Tully and Hitch?" Troy growled to himself.

The major got back behind cover to eject an empty magazine and put a new one in. A shocked look came over his face when he went back to firing, and proceeded to hold down the trigger, emptying the magazine in a matter of seconds. He cursed in German before crouching back down next to Troy. "The SS… they took your friend."

"'Took?' As in 'captured?'" Troy asked.

The major nodded. "I… I am sorry. I-I tried to stop them."

"Stop. Don't apologize. You did what you could." Troy welcomed the newfound silence, then said, "Put the gun down. I don't want my men shooting you if you look like you're out for a fight."

The major set the Thompson in the snow. "You are Troy, correct?"

"Yeah."

For a moment, the major looked hesitant, then he let out his breath. "I am Major Johann Tausemann, a friend of Captain Dietrich. He sent me to give you a message."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"He told me to tell you that he still remembers shooting Captain Wansee."

Troy sighed. "That's Dietrich alright. What's the message?"

"There is a paper sewn in my right breast pocket. It contains a list of places that Dietrich frequents and his current command post. He said that in the event of Moffitt's capture by the Sorcery Division, you must find him first."

"I don't think that'll be necessary."

Tausemann looked stunned. "Dietrich wants out of Germany."

"Why couldn't he come here and surrender himself?"

"The Gestapo has been keeping an eye on him for quite some time. After he returned home from North Africa for a time, he learned that his apartment had been bugged. When he learned he could trust me, he told me of his predicament, and I offered to help in any way possible."

"I still don't see why he couldn't do this himself."

"I suspect he has unfinished business of some kind."

The silence was shattered by the sound of the jeeps returning. "Sarge! You alright?" Hitch called.

"Yeah!" Troy called back.

Tausemann helped Troy stand. "Can you walk?"

"Well, was my leg shot?"

"No, but—"

"Then I can walk."

Tausemann looked confused for a moment, then said, "Dietrich told me you could be difficult at times."

Troy wasn't sure to take that as a compliment or an insult. When he was helped into one of the jeeps, Tully asked, "Where's Moffitt?"

"Captured," Troy replied.

"What? We gotta go find him—"

"The Sorcery Division got him. That's not going to be a get-in, get-out mission."

"Sarge, we can't just leave him!"

"Tully!" Troy raised his voice. "We'll figure this out. Let's head back to camp."

When they returned to camp, Troy was separated and prepped to be sent to the nearest Army surgical hospital. While waiting, he had a sense that something was following him. The medics were completely unaware of it, even though what Troy was seeing stuck out like a sore thumb in his wintry surroundings. A black-backed jackal, its fur more characteristic of an animal adapted to life in the savannas of Africa, loped up to his side.

He had initially been dismissive of the cobra's prophecy for Dietrich. "The paths of the bear and the jackal must intertwine, and the deer and the snake will help you see the abyss that looms before you." He knew magic was real and wasn't something to be messed around with, but it worked in confusing ways and was rarely straightforward. Troy made a mistake by believing that ignoring it would make it go away, because it eventually caught up to him when the Sorcery Division sent a shadow Conjurus to probe minds and ended up learning about the prophecy.

Troy wasn't one to discuss dreams with anyone, even those he trusted. He was affected by the same dreams as Moffitt and Dietrich, but one was unique to him because of his dismissal of the prophecy. A scene where he was in the middle of a lake, and the lake suddenly turned to blood. He accepted his role as the jackal in the prophecy after Dietrich rescued him from the shadow Conjurus just a few days later, and while he didn't always like the slow and patient route magic took, he admitted it was still effective in whatever it was trying to do.

The jackal itself wasn't a constant companion like Moffitt's cobra, and Troy preferred it that way. He didn't have the same patience that Moffitt had with Anah. She was wise, yes, but cryptic, a bit arrogant, and so rude at times that Troy imagined that his mother would handle her the same way she handled rattlesnakes on the porch back home in Wyoming—smack them over the head and chuck them off with a broom before they got a chance to hiss.

At the same time, Troy could tell that Anah cared deeply for Moffitt. She was the only one of the group to really get through to him after his brother's death. She talked with Moffitt about things that Troy never thought much about. He had overheard many of their conversations while Moffitt was on watch, and it was fascinating that a snake of all things had such vast knowledge on everything from history to mythology. She intrigued Moffitt's archeological background, something Troy very rarely did.

The period of time between the last Axis surrender in North Africa and the invasion of Sicily wasn't a good one for Troy. The need to be active and do something rather than resting was irritating. Nothing was satisfying. He was still up at an early hour, sometimes earlier than Moffitt. On their last day in North Africa, Troy remembered waking up some time after three. The jackal was sitting right outside the tent, as if it was waiting for him.

"I like that you're quiet," Troy said as he left the tent.

The jackal looked up at him, appearing to smile.

Troy knew that it wasn't a dog, but it had the appearance of a dog and was even acting a little like a dog. It stayed at his side as the two walked away from camp, much like his father's old hunting dog, who followed young Troy around the farm since he could walk. Despite the dog's age, he stayed near Troy, making sure he didn't go too far or get himself into trouble. The jackal behaved in a similar manner.

Aside from brief discussions with his brother, David, Troy didn't talk, or think, much about life back home. He loved his family, but didn't feel it was necessary to talk too much about them. There was a constant risk of being captured, and the last thing Troy wanted were the Germans trying to use such personal, intimate knowledge against him or any other member of the Rat Patrol. When they used David as bait in a minefield, Troy only shut himself out further. The less anyone knew, the safer they would be.

At times, he wondered if he was a little too closed off. He knew almost everything about Moffitt, Hitch, and Tully, but how much did they know about him? They knew his command style, and they knew about David and his father's death. Beyond that, nothing. Now, he wondered what the point was in hiding anymore, and he also wondered if that was what the jackal was trying to help with. He knew from Moffitt that the jackal typically represented solitude and cleverness in literature. The cleverness was definitely true for Troy, as was the solitude, but there was a part of him that knew the solitude couldn't be maintained forever.

"Is that it?" he asked.

The jackal simply looked at him.

Troy gave a heavy sigh. "As much as I like it, sometimes your silence is just as bad as the snake's inability to give straight answers."

The jackal didn't show up for no reason, and afterward, it would occasionally show up in Italy. In the early morning hours, it was a strangely comforting companion, but it was still frustrating since it was as difficult to get answers from the jackal as it was from Anah. Then again, it was probably more difficult here since the jackal couldn't or wouldn't talk. It didn't really try to communicate beyond staring and making Troy follow it.

Eventually, shortly before the Normandy landings, Troy took Moffitt aside in England. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure. Anything," Moffitt replied. "This is… a bit odd for you, I hope you understand that."

"Oh, I know, but this is starting to drive me a little crazy." Briefly, Troy wanted to dismiss this whole thing as being insane, but Moffitt presently had a snake at his beck and call. "I've been seeing the jackal from North Africa. It shows up in dreams, sometimes walking in front of me, or just sitting and staring at me. I don't think this is for no reason, but I want to know why."

"Does it not talk?"

"No. On one hand, I appreciate the lack of smart remarks and cryptic answers, but it doesn't communicate at all."

Moffitt was quiet a moment. "I think it does communicate, but you haven't learned how to understand it."

"Yes. Sitting and staring at me without making a sound is good communication."

"Lots of animals communicate without making sound. Their body language—"

"No. This jackal doesn't even move very much, unless it's walking with me."

Moffitt reached into his shirt to grab his pendant, but Troy held out his hand. "No. She's not going to give us a straight answer."

Moffitt sighed. "I highly doubt this jackal is spending time with you for no reason, unless it's lonely. Or you are lonely."

"Which isn't true."

More silence from Moffitt, but he was staring quite intensely at Troy, and his tone became more serious. "Is it? Or is it something you keep telling yourself so you really believe it when you say it to someone else?"

"Is it anybody's business?"

"No, not really, but nobody deserves to be lonely."

"What if it's by choice?"

"Is it a choice you want to maintain? What will happen when the war is over, when we all go home?"

"That's just it. We go home."

"We're not going home the same people, Troy."

"I think you're spending too much time with the snake."

"I knew this long before I was assigned to the Rat Patrol, and with… some of the things I've done, I know I won't be the same man as when I left home."

"I find it a lot easier to just not dwell on the choices you made in the past. It happened. It's over. No reason to think about it, because all it does is slow you down and prevent you from focusing on what's in front of you."

"I see your point, but your past never truly goes away. You learned that magic won't disappear if you ignore it. Your past is the same way." Moffitt's gaze softened a little. "Maybe that's what the jackal is trying to tell you. I noticed that you become much warmer when it's around, like it's an old friend. You had a dog when you were younger, didn't you?"

Troy hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"It reminds you of that dog, and not just the dog but your boyhood as well, which sets off a string of other memories to come to the surface."

"You think the jackal's trying to get me to talk about—" Troy shrugged, "me?"

"Perhaps. I think there's more to it, but I'm not entirely sure. I'm just guessing. In some ways, this conversation right now has told me quite a bit about you."

"Like what?"

"You have a very… simple way of looking at things. Not simple as in simple-minded and stupid, but simple as in 'not complicated.' It's identical to your command style."

"Makes sense."

"I'm certainly not saying you need to completely overhaul your way of thinking. Your way of thinking is what makes you an individual, but when it results in your relationships stagnating and missing things simply because they are not part of your goal, perhaps it's time to change just a little."

After that conversation, Troy didn't see the jackal again until shortly after D-Day, then it didn't reappear until now, while it sat by him as he waited for the medics to finish evaluating his wound. He heard one of them say that his wound was low-priority compared to others already in their care, as well as another mentioned a few weeks of recovery. Troy cursed in his mind. Moffitt was in danger and probably couldn't afford to wait. Not unless he gets himself out. He's smart enough to do that. He's done it before. He can do it again.

Augsburg, Germany

SS-Hauptsturmführer Kurt Veidt stood patiently in front of Standartenführer Walther Kaschel's desk, waiting for his superior to return from a sudden meeting with another officer. He looked around the room, noticing that the files Kaschel had been keeping on each of the Sorcery Division's projects had gotten fewer. He wasn't surprised; after all, he helped dismantle some of them, without Kaschel's knowledge. While not being magic himself, Veidt was a member of the League of Gentlemen Sorcerers and Lady Witches, an organization that was opposed to the Nazis, had several members hidden within the German military, and conducted various operations to hinder the war effort. Veidt had been working with them for almost four years, and his good relationship with Kaschel, the head of the Sorcery Division, had allowed him to get away with quite a lot, though he always feared he would be caught at any moment.

Veidt stood stiffly at attention when he heard a door open behind him, and Kaschel walked in. "Good afternoon, sir," Veidt said.

"Put your coat on," Kaschel replied. "We are heading to the laboratory."

"May I ask what is going on, sir?"

"Sturmbannführer Augenstein has found the British sergeant with the cobra necklace. I want to inspect his progress."

Veidt followed Kaschel out to where all of the officers' coats were hung up in a closet. "The weather is supposed to turn nasty today. Are you sure you want to do this now, sir?"

"Indeed I do," Kaschel said.

Veidt decided not to press further. After getting his coat on, he and Veidt headed outside to the Standartenführer's staff car. Snow was falling lightly at the moment, blemishing the two men's black uniforms with white flecks. Kaschel had to duck to get his tall frame into the car, and said to the driver once Veidt was in, "Take us to the laboratory, please, Unterscharführer."

"Yes, sir." The driver started the car and began pulling away from the headquarters building.

Veidt was quiet for much of the drive, then said softly, "There is more to this, is there not, sir?"

"I am concerned that Augenstein will be using this as a means of getting revenge for what happened in North Africa. He has found us a very powerful creature, and I do not want him letting her go to waste."

Veidt didn't know much about the cobra pendant, other than it summoned an Egyptian cobra that possessed a great amount of power, including clairvoyance and resurrection, two things the Germans needed if they had a shred of hope of winning the war. Two things I need to prevent them from getting, Veidt thought. This probably wasn't going to be an easy job. He would need help.

When they arrived at the laboratory, Veidt stayed close to Kaschel as they passed the guards and entered the huge, concrete complex. Most of it was underground to protect it from bombings. The rooms were either sterile operating theaters, or dungeon-like chambers for testing experimental equipment or potions. The two types of rooms seemed to be polar opposites in the same building, but both were equally creepy.

The two headed down a flight of stairs to get to a dungeon, where Augenstein was standing in front of a tall, dark-haired man in chains that led up to the ceiling. Next to Augenstein was a large, glass tank holding a blue-eyed Egyptian cobra.

Augenstein turned, revealing that he was holding a potion bottle containing a brown fluid. "Standartenführer, what a pleasant surprise. I was not expecting you."

"I was on short notice myself about your capture of the Englishman," Kaschel said.

"Well, you are just in time to watch him suffer, sir."

Veidt's heart wrenched when he saw the captive man brace himself.

"I have already seen that barbaric potion of yours in action. Why are you killing him already?"

"Oh, I do not want to kill him. I want his snake to watch him suffer so she will tell me how her pendant works. If she does not tell me within five hours of this potion taking effect, the sergeant will die."

"No."

Augenstein gave Kaschel a stunned look. "No, sir?"

"No. You are not going to use that potion."

"Sir—"

"We are going to be hit with a blizzard in less than five hours, and I want no one here when it happens in case of pipe damage."

"We can leave the prisoner here."

"No. The prisoner will come with me and be kept in the base just outside of Augsburg. He will be released to you when the blizzard is over." Kaschel paused, looking the Englishman briefly in the eye. "However, we can leave the snake here. She is protected in the tank, correct?"

"Yes, and she is immortal," Augenstein said.

"Good. So a day or two in isolation and cold will not kill her."

The Englishman spoke in German. "I doubt you will earn her cooperation by leaving her here."

"No one told you to speak!" Standing next to the prisoner, a Hauptsturmführer, younger than Veidt, swung a club into the man's stomach. Air rushed from the Englishman's lungs, and he let out a weak cry of pain.

Veidt suppressed a desire to wince, and to help. If we are taking him back, I can get him out at any point. It will be risky in a blizzard, but it is worth a try. Where will I hide him, though? They will search every inch of Augsburg for him… so I will not hide him in Augsburg. Inwardly, Veidt grinned. I will send a letter to Colonel Hogan, and tell him to expect a guest.