CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

Fire and Ice, Part 2

As he stared incredulously at the frozen doors before him, one of his mother’s favorite poems flashed across Sam’s mind.

Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice. Of what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire, his mother often recited Robert Frost’s famous poem to her son as if she were warning Sam of some future danger with the elements. But if the world had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to say that ice too is great and would suffice…

Why am I remembering mom now? he wondered.

Sam thought it was inappropriate to be thinking of his past while they were all in mortal danger, but memories of his family have been running unbidden in Sam’s mind for a while now. Ever since that moment he and Pandora the 8th locked eyes.

Who was she? He asked himself even though no clear answer came to him. At least not one he wanted to hear. “No, that’s just wishful thinking…she’s dead…”

There was no time to sort out the strange thoughts in his mind because a second frost ray was lancing toward him. Launched from the other end of the hall by the hand of the ancient sorceress idling there.

Sam raised his shield arm. “Come on, Bulwark!”

There was a loud sound like that of a longhorn blowing across free plains, and then the icy blast struck the near-invisible shield as it spread out to cover Sam’s arm. Although his shield saved his life, the arcane projectile shattered Bulwark into hundreds of tiny shards. Sam was blown back, forced on his butt a good deal away from where he stood. And, when he sat up seconds later, Sam discovered he was in even more danger now because the second dragon’s head loomed over him.

“Oh, Styx,” he blurted.

The dragon hissed, its spit dripping down the front of Sam’s suit.

“Eugh, man, that’s going to leave a stain,” he complained.

The dragon’s head snapped down on Sam, but then a whip made of bright blue electrical energy smacked against its snout, saving Sam from becoming its dinner.

He scrambled away from the horror just as Thunder reached his side.

“You noticed how I’m always saving your butt now,” she teased.

Thunder sounded upbeat, but Sam could tell that she was probably faking it. Sweat was dripping down her brow. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was heavy.

“Thunder,” Sam began, but she cut him off with, “I’m fine...worry about yourself. You look beat, lame-brain.”

He felt beat too, although Sam didn’t say it out loud. Not when Thunder looked even worse than he felt.

“I’m okay,” he said, but then he winced immediately afterward. The frost that clung to his arm sent biting cold pain into his bones, the kind that not even Regeneration could dull. “What’s going on...?”

A quick inspection of his stats told him that he was affected with [Frostbite], a highly potent debilitating condition that caused him continuous damage for the duration of its effect. It also prevented Regeneration from working properly.

“Hey, master, does this thing have a cure?” Sam asked.

Sam waited, waited, and then he waited some more but no response came. Only a dead silence that he wasn’t used to anymore.

“Master?” Sam called again.

Seconds ticked by while he waited for Chiron’s nagging voice to overload his brain with possibly helpful information, but no reply came.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Something’s wrong...”

“What else could be wrong?” Thunder asked wryly.

The sarcasm in her voice was understandable. They were already in deep trouble, but this moment’s reprieve was thanks to his friends distracting the two horrors that would have normally taken a full raid group to defeat. But, as Sam explained that Chiron’s connection seemed to have been severed, Thunder’s face seemed to pale even worse.

“Ashley said the same thing,” she revealed. “The Fates have gone silent on her too.”

“Is Medea that powerful?” Sam’s gaze drifted over to the sorceress who lounged in her man-chair at the other end of the hall. “She doesn’t even look like she’s trying...”

“I’m guessing she’s wrapped this space with some kind of psychic jamming spell to keep us from getting help from the outside,” Thunder answered.

Medea was flipping the Norn Coin into the air over and over again as if to taunt Sam and his friends, daring them to steal it from her grasp.

“I wish I could throw a lightning bolt at her smug face,” Thunder grumbled.

Her comment made Sam smile, although that quickly turned upside down. “I don’t think a bunch of gassed-out heroes will beat her... If we can just make it outside...”

There was one glaring problem with this escape plan—the flower-shaped glacier was radiating off such a cold aura that Sam and Thunder couldn’t even stand within ten feet of it.

“I could have shattered that ice by myself if I was at full strength, but…” Thunder let out a deep sigh before her hand found Sam’s shoulder, “…You’re going to have to Herculean the crap out of it.”

“Herculean the crap out of it...” Sam repeated. “Gods, please, don’t let Ash hear you say that...she’ll make it a thing.”

“She already has,” Thunder replied, a smile on her lips. “Where did you think I heard it first?”

Sam groaned.

“Can you do it?” Thunder pressed.

“I...” Sam glanced over his shoulder.

The flower-shaped glacier looming behind them topped off about fifteen feet in both height and length. It was at least six feet thick and looked extremely hard to break.

“I can try,” Sam replied.

“There is no try, Sam,” Thunder replied.

She raised her arms forward and then summoned an electric current to spread between her two palms.

“Only do,” she finished.

Sam glanced sideways at her, his brow rising slightly. “Did you just quote Yoda to me?”

“You don’t own the copyright on pop-culture references,” she replied. “I’ll help the others keep those horrors at bay while you Herculean the—”

“Stop that,” Sam begged.

Although he worried for her health, Sam couldn’t help but think that Thunder’s shoulders were a lot broader than usual. Like she could carry the weight of the world and do it better than Atlas did.

She’s so damn cool, he thought.

He didn’t have to worry about her much, though. Thunder wouldn’t fight alone. Dr. Hearthstone, Jackboot, and Farsight all moved to her side. Then, after looking cool standing there shoulder to shoulder, they worked to keep the enemy distracted long enough for Sam to try pulling off another Hail Mary.

“She’s expecting way too much of me.” Sam raised his right fist. “I guess I’ll have to live up to her expectations... Herculean.”

It was only a whisper, but it seemed Medea had momentarily leaned forward as an aura of power exploded out of the other end of the hall.

[Stout Body], the passive upgrade that lessened the damage Sam received from wielding Herculean’s might, did nothing to dampen the pain spreading out from his core and down to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“Come...on...” Sam grunted.

He forced every bit of Herculean’s power into his right arm, causing his fist to be wrapped in a fiery teal aura that radiated sparks that snapped against the ground around him.

“Just a little more...” Sam hissed through gritted teeth.

He could feel the heat of dragon fire against his back and even smell the scent of burning flesh, but these worries only spurred him on. Desperately, Sam pushed all his strength into his fist knowing all too well that any less wouldn’t break Medea’s hold on the doors.

“Grit your teeth...” Sam began reciting Chiron’s words to himself. “...and unleash all the resolve hiding in your heart.”

[Mortal Fist (ζ)] activated.

With his fist coated in emerald light, Sam ran toward the flower-shaped glacier blocking their escape. A cold aura blasted against him, but he endured its chilly bite like a wooly mammoth rampaging across a frozen plain.

“Go beyond...even the extraordinary”—He took those last few steps at a leap—“and become—”

For those watching from afar, the moment Sam pulled his fist back was like the unveiling of an emerald sun blazing to life. Then, like a comet shooting across the night sky, Sam’s fist flew forward, and the promise of miracles flew with it.

“Super~~r!” Sam roared.

His fist collided with the flower-shaped glacier right at its center—and the icy flower born of ancient sorcery gave way to Herculean’s strength. A myriad of cracks formed on its surface, racing toward the edges of each of its petals, causing them to shatter into thousands of tiny shards that sent cold winds spiraling everywhere.

Sam could feel the biting cold on his face, but the pain of it didn’t stop him from grinning as widely as possible. Because, against herculean odds, he’d risen to the occasion yet again.

“Awesome,” Sam whispered.

He could see the doors just out of arm’s reach, but he was too gassed out to grasp for their handles. And as his strength gave way to great fatigue, Sam fell back to the ground hoping someone would carry him through those damn doors already.