Chapter 6 – Frost and Fury

Arthas, Jaina and Uther stopped in their tracks as they heard the booming roar across the burning city.

"By the Light..." Uther muttered.

Jaina summoned her water elemental and started spraying the nearby burning buildings with streams of conjured water. The elemental quickly started doing the same.

"Go on ahead." she said. "Find him and see if there are any survivors still in the city. I'll handle this."

"Jaina..." Arthas said with a frown of concern. "Even if you put out some of the fires it's still too dangerous to stay here for long with all this smoke."

"I won't overdo it." she said. "But just in case there's still anyone left alive..."

"I understand." he said, trying to focus on the task at hand. "But listen… when we get out of here, I need to have a word with you."

She nodded and he left her to her work, hurrying along with Uther in the direction they thought Clark had headed. Along the way, the prince gathered his thoughts about everything that had just happened… and found himself horrified.

"I can't believe I actually considered that even for a moment..." he thought along the way, absolutely disgusted with himself as the realization sank in. "If Clark hadn't snapped..."

Noticing that his pupil was lagging behind, Uther looked over his shoulder.

"Arthas, are you all right?"

"I… don't know." he said, visibly disturbed.


Meanwhile…

"Not like this..." she thought in anguish. "I can't let it go off the rails like this. Not him."

The bronze dragon in disguise was perfectly aware of how events had been supposed to unfold. After all, she existed simultaneously in multiple timelines and it was her sworn duty to uphold the integrity of the continuum. Still, despite taking her duty very seriously she was not as dispassionately detached as some of her peers or some of the other servants left behind by the Titans, which left her in a difficult position.

She wanted to intervene. To say something that might sway him from the destructive path he seemed poised to embark on.

"Worse than a fallen prince… worse than a new Lich King..." she thought in fright.

"No." she thought, clenching her tiny fist. "Not him. You won't have him."

She gathered the resolve to shed the shroud of invisibility concealing her from mortal eyes and tried to approach him… only to be promptly knocked off her feet by a sudden and violent dislocation of air as the furious paladin, oblivious to her presence, shot into the air like a comet clad in metal towards the frozen north.

"No..." she thought, placing her hands on her head, completely at a loss and mentally kicking herself for her hesitation.

She stayed there, motionless, staring into the sky, until a voice broke her out of her stupor.

"There's still someone here!"

Startled, she turned around, only to come face to face with another pawn of fate. Arthas Menethil. The prince doomed to lose himself to madness and destroy every single thing good and pure in his own life and bring doom and sorrow to those around him, before eventually meeting his demise in the frozen north and being damned to an eternity of suffering.

Even as she looked at him, overlapping with the handsome face with a healthy pink color, she saw hints of who he was fated to become. In her mind's eye she saw the face alternate between its current shade and a deathly pallor just as his golden hair momentarily flashed white and an icy mist radiated from his eyes.

"His path is in a state of flux..." she realized.

As Uther came into view, she experienced the same effect. In her mind's eye he shifted between his current state, a rotting corpse and even a form much similar to the one she knew the prince was fated to take. This was not the end of it, however.

"Nozdormu's… eggs..." she thought as new, different forms appeared in her mind's eye.

In one iteration, she saw Arthas as an older man, a true king by every definition of the word, still wrapped in the Light, happy and serene. She saw Uther, at the end of a long, fulfilling life, quietly enjoying his last years surrounded by children with very familiar features. The contrast between what was, what was intended to be and what might be was enough to make her want to cry.

"Sometimes… I really hate this job..."

Enforcing what Nozdormu had deemed the true path meant cutting off the others. Snuffing out other possibilities in order to keep existence on a set path. The true burden of an enforcer of the continuum, of a Keeper of Time, was knowing this.

"Are you all right Miss?" the prince asked, completely oblivious to her true nature or what she was experiencing. "You should get out of here before the fire spreads this way."

"I'll be fine." she said, trying to keep her inner turmoil from showing. "You should be more worried about your friend."

She had no idea why she'd blurted out that last part. Either way, she knew she would have to elaborate to avoid arousing their suspicion.

"What do you mean?" Arthas asked with genuine concern.

"He's gone." she said, picking the discarded pieces of his hammer off the cobblestones with her tiny hands. "Off to chase that demon to the ends of the earth. To Northrend."

"WHAT?!" Uther interjected, completely aghast.

"I doubt you'll be able to do anything about it." she said with a sigh.

"Northrend..." Arthas muttered to himself. "So our true foe must be striking at us from there."

"Even if we know where he went, we don't know what lurks there." Uther cautioned. "We need time to prepare appropriately for something like this. We must confer with the king."

"You do that..." Chromie thought. "For all the good it'll do. As for me… I know exactly what I must do."

Taking advantage of a momentary distraction on their part, she shrouded herself once again. She then proceeded to store the pieces of the hammer in a pocket dimension before disappearing, leaving Arthas and Uther wondering if she had just been a hallucination induced by the smoke.

"He's my burden. My responsibility."


Later...

Clark had never been so far from home. He had no idea what he might find, only that the monsters responsible for the horrors he had witnessed were lurking in the frozen north. All other considerations were drowned out by the unyielding grief and rage as he sped over the North Sea as swiftly as he could push his body. Time was a blur, and the next thing he noticed he was crossing the threshold between clear seas and a large area where large chunks of ice were floating aimlessly in the chilly salty waters.

Pausing for a moment as he felt the arctic winds on his face, he inhaled deeply and tried to use his augmented senses to discern where his quarry might be hiding. The frozen continent was larger than he had anticipated, and it would take time to scour it.

He aimlessly swept through the skies, heading inland, eventually spotting what looked like a group of dwarves being attacked by more zombies. He had never heard of any settlements so far up north, let alone a dwarven one, but as he saw what appeared to be some sort of unholy crossbreed between spiders and humans bearing down on them alongside the zombies, he knew the dwarves needed help. The creatures were covered in some sort of black chitinous substance in lieu of skin, ornamented with what almost looked like gemstones and golden filigree. Much like actual spiders, they lacked a human face, instead surveying their surroundings with clusters of large beady eyes as venom dripped down their mandibles. Just like the zombies, they were overflowing with the stench of undeath.

Clark stopped, then fired a wide burst of heat vision, just enough to hit as many of the undead as possible while leaving the dwarves untouched. A good chunk of them burst into ash in a flash of crimson, startling the dwarves into stunned silence for a brief moment.

"What the bloody hell is that?!" one of them cried out a the sight of the towering, armored form with blazing eyes.

"Sod it!" another one shouted. "Get those wankers!"

"Ye know they're spiders, right." another dwarf chimed in, sounding like he'd had a little too much to drink. "Do they even have-"

"Who the hell cares?! Just blast 'em!"

And they did just that, riddling the remaining undead with rifle bullets while a pair of steam tanks shelled them from afar with their main cannons. For good measure, Clark swooped down and pounded a few more with his fists and as soon as the area was clear he unceremoniously blasted off into the distance again.

"I dunno what the hell that was..." Muradin Bronzebeard said with a furrowed brow as he scratched his oversized golden beard, watching Clark disappear from view. "But Light have mercy on whatever pisses him off."

The combination of the chilly air and the opportunity to vent his fury had cleared Clark's head slightly, to the point where he eventually began to examine his actions.

"Damnit… I did it again..." he thought, annoyed at himself. "But I've come too far to turn back now. In for a copper..."

Something drew his attention to the northeast, almost like a whisper at the edge of his perception. Intrigued, he decided to investigate. However, before he could turn completely, he spotted a strange, massive stone tower in the distance, standing atop a frozen rock path. He paused for a moment to examine it, and felt as if dozens of eyes were watching him, but the presences emanating from the structure was too pure, so instead he focused on his quarry.

"A mystery for another time. I didn't come here for sightseeing."

And so he continued, zooming past the tower, oblivious to one particular pair of eyes.

"This has to stop NOW!" the owner of those eyes thought, still with a heavy heart.

A few moments later, as he continued on his path, Clark was interrupted by a strange sight. Before him, hovering in the air as it flapped the large leathery wings on its back, was a scaly creature with four limbs and a long tail, with scales the color of bronze, staring at him with green eyes that betrayed a glimmer of intelligence.

"STOP!" the creature bellowed, in a surprisingly squeaky, high pitched voice that seemed completely unfitting for a creature of such size.

Had he not had some time to cool his head along the way, he might have socked the creature in the face or simply ignored it and continued on, but instead his anger gave way to confusion, as he watched it just hovering there without making any threatening moves.

"What the hell is that?" he thought, before recalling the many lessons he'd received during his formative years. "A bronze dragon?"

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into." the dragon bellowed, trying to sound imposing despite the squeaky voice. "Turn back and go home… for your own sake."

A flash of anger danced through Clark's eyes as he heard those words.

"Turn back?!" he bellowed back. "Are you insane?! Do you have any idea what this damned cult is doing?!"

"I do. But you're interfering in things you don't understand. If you continue on this course then something terrible will happen."

"Something terrible is already happening." he retorted, incensed. "If you think threats will keep me from doing my du-"

He was cut off by a chilling pain on his back, as if a million icy daggers had been thrust into his spine. The dragon looked behind him and gasped. While the two had been busy arguing, someone else had taken advantage of the distraction.

Despite the pain, Clark was able to turn around just in time to see two grotesque creatures flying through the sky on tattered leathery wings, ripe with the stench of the grave. They looked like skeletons, and not just any skeletons, but rather the reanimated remains of long dead dragons, infused with some profane energies that made him sick to his stomach. An unnatural glow filled their hollow chest cavities and empty eye sockets, as if the frozen winds had been given a visible form. In that moment, struggling against the pain, Clark knew he was in trouble.

"That was… magic..." he thought in alarm, clenching his teeth.

The Archbishop had warned him about the dangers of magic, being one of the few things seemingly able to harm him. He had already had a taste of it during training and again earlier on his mission courtesy of the necromancer, but the icy breath attack had not been meant to simply inconvenience.

"Can't… hold still..." he realized, trying to stay focused despite the pain.

He rolled and dodged out of the way as the creatures unleashed another salvo, knowing what would happen if they hit him again. He was able to clip the left wing on one of them with his heat vision but while such an injury would have given a living creature pause, the undead dragon simply continued its assault.

His mind raced as he tried to think of a plan without falling prey to his anger once again. He picked up speed and tried to kick up a gust of wind in hopes of knocking them out of balance and creating an opening. The plan seemed to partially work as he was able to land a solid punch on the other frostwyrm, but the creature ignored the broken ribs.

"Looks like the only way to beat these things is going all out..." he thought, clenching his teeth.

Just as he was about to attempt an all out assault, a large number of black forms started appearing in the distance, seemingly made of stone, each of them slightly bigger than a man and flying on bat-like wings. They fell upon Clark in a swarm, lashing out with fang and claw. He fended them off with punches, kicks and bursts of heat vision, sending a few tumbling down to the frozen ground below, but their numbers were ridiculous.

Chromie watched the whole thing, not knowing what to do. Her attempt at dialogue had failed, and if she lingered then either the frostwyrms or the gargoyles would come for her next. She cast a glance at the tower and a flash of anger danced through her eyes as she realized that its inhabitants would do nothing.

"Guess we're all expendable, aren't we?" she thought with annoyance.

Existing in multiple timelines simultaneously, it would take much more than that to get rid of someone like her, but she still felt aggravated at what seemed like a display of callous indifference.

"You're not supposed to be here, Kryptonian..." she thought as she looked at Clark.

The frostwyrms were about to unleash their breath again, their mindless state rendering them indifferent to the fact that they would also be hitting their own cohorts. Clark seemed to realize this as well, as he jerked around violently, knocking the gargoyles off his back and rushing one of the frostwyrms with a raised blow connected and the front of the creature's skull caved in, spilling a chilling cloud of mist instead of concentrated breath, but Clark still felt the cold burning his fist and seeping through his armor. In a mere moment, he could barely feel his arm.

"You're throwing everything out of whack..." Chromie thought. "This has to stop."

It would have been far too easy to turn back and leave him to deal with this on his own. If he survived, he might be too weak to interfere further. If he did not, then the disruption would end and Nozdormu's designs would continue after some additional corrective actions.

Yet she hesitated.

She looked at the tower in the distance once more, then back at him.

The frostwyrm with the caved in skull flailed blindly as the energies animating it spilled out. Clark avoided it to the best of his ability, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the pain in his back and arm. A normal person would have already blacked out from it.

The other one was about to unleash another breath attack on Clark's back. His exertions were beginning to slow him down, chipping away at his strength.

Unexpectedly, a single tear rolled off of one of Chromie's emerald eyes.

"No… Not like this."

She knew who and what he was. What he might become. What he represented. This was no agent of the Legion, no rogue mage seeking to tamper with the timeline for his own benefit. He had not asked to be there, and was technically not doing anything wrong other than being in the wrong place, the wrong world.

"I don't even know how I'm going to explain this… but screw it."

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM!" she bellowed in her high pitched voice before expelling a tremendous blast of sand from her gaping maw.

A very confused Clark watched as the second frostwyrm abruptly froze in place in the middle of the air, completely motionless. Before he had time to react, however, the gargoyles renewed their assault, swooping in from above and below at the same time. He instinctively gained altitude and unleashed his heat vision on the group coming in from above. To his surprise, however, they were not incinerated like the lesser undead he had previously dealt with.

"What ARE these things made of?" he pondered, before deciding to use his fists.

Meanwhile, Chromie swooped down below his position and spun around, swatting the other group with her tail.

"Who's tiny now, you jerks?!" she fumed, psyching herself up. "This is what I think of all those stupid jokes about gnomes and time traveling!"

Despite the circumstances, she couldn't help feeling a little grateful for the opportunity to cut loose for a bit.

"What are you doing? Why are you even he-" Clark tried to ask before she cut him off.

"Not now! Don't get distracted!"

The unnatural cold was beginning to dull his senses in addition to his reflexes. Mentally cursing himself for ignoring the Archbishop's advice, Clark grabbed one of the gargoyles, spun it around and hurled it at the others. The impact scattered them, sending a few more tumbling down. Just as it looked like it was over, however, the nearly headless frostwyrm somehow managed to ram into him, releasing the remaining of the energy animating it and leaving Clark chilled to the bone.

"Idiot… idiot idiot idiot!" he fumed inwardly as he plummeted from the sky, unable to move.

Chromie had just enough time to look up and see the falling Kryptonian above her before his trajectory intercepted hers and both of them were sent tumbling down through the air.


After an indeterminate amount of time, Clark found himself watching a bizarre scene unfolding in some sort of throne room. Everything looked warped and deformed, as if drawn by a drunk artist or a child still learning the basics.

King Terenas Menethil, third of his name, was sitting on his throne, drinking wine from a comically oversized golden goblet encrusted with gems.

"Jeez! It sure is boring around here!" Arthas complained, stretching his arms and rolling his eyes around as if having some sort of seizure.

The king spoke his mind, raising a finger.

"My boy, this peace is what all true warriors strive for."

"I just wonder what Mal'Ganis is up to." Arthas said with an unfitting smile on his face.

Then the old man they had met on the road to Stratholme swooped into the chamber… riding some sort of flying carpet for no discernible reason.

"Your Majesty, Mal'Ganis and his minions have seized the island of Northrend." he proclaimed, opening his arms in an overly dramatic fashion.

"Hmmm… How can we help?" the king asked with a vacant look in his eyes and his mouth ajar, almost as if the wine were spiked with something stronger.

"It is written." the old man said, unfurling a strange parchment covered in unintelligible scribbles and pointing at said scribbles. "Only Arthas can defeat Mal'Ganis."

"Great!" Arthas interjected excitedly. "I'll grab my stuff!"

"There is no time." the old man said. "Your sword is enough."

Arthas then turned to Jaina, who was standing in the chamber with them for some reason, still wearing the tunic with the exposed midriff Clark had first seen her with.

"How about a kiss, for luck?" the prince asked as he stepped closer to her with a ridiculous grin.

"You've got to be kidding." she retorted, rolling her eyes before crossing her arms and looking away. For some reason, Arthas placed a hand over his mouth, as if trying not to laugh, with a look in his eyes as if he had just silently broken wind.


After that, Clark was pried from his strange dream – or whatever that was – and found himself lying belly up on the snow. The pain in his arm and back had subsided somewhat, but he was still exhausted and disoriented. He vigorously shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts and looked around again, spotting what looked like the scattered remains of the frostwyrm that had crashed into him.

"Wait… what happened to the dragon?"

It was then that he realized that he was sitting on top of something small and soft, and hastily stood up. Much to his surprise, he found a small female gnome with ruffled golden hair, wearing a white dress with golden embroidery. She appeared to be in a daze, as if suffering from a concussion, but quickly regained her composure, staring at him with green eyes… much like those belonging to the strange creature he had encountered in the sky above.

"Oh! Sorry about that." he said as he realized he had landed on top of her. "But… what are you doing here Miss?"

"Is he really that thick or did he hit his head on the way down?" Chromie thought, utterly baffled, still struggling to process what had happened… and how much heavier he was than he looked.

It was then that a thought sank in.

"I really messed up this time…" she realized in alarm. "There's no way Nozdormu won't find out about this."

Clark took another look at her and lowered himself into a crouch, knowing how sensitive some gnomes could be about the whole height difference issue.

"Are you all right Miss?" he asked with concern.

"Always true to your nature, aren't you?" she thought, still unsure what to do next or why she had reacted the way she had. "Very well..."

"I'm fine." she finally said. "But what about you?"

"I've seen better days." he admitted. "Luckily this is one of the first things my mentor taught me."

His gloved hands started glowing with the Light and he methodically proceeded to touch the areas that had taken the brunt of the abuse, making the excruciating pain subside to a dull ache. Luckily, it felt like there would be no permanent damage. Still tired after all the exertions despite the unintended nap, he sat down with a sigh, realizing he was getting hungry.

"I think I've made a mistake or two..." he pondered out loud, before letting out a sigh.

"That's one way of looking at it." the dragon thought, still unsure what to do.

She silently weighed her options. She could very easily leave, but that would mean letting him run off on his own doing as he pleased. Confronting him directly was out of the question, and calling for help from the other Keepers of Time would only escalate the situation. They might be able to take him on, but the consequences and collateral damage to the surrounding area and by extension the timeline might just compound the problem.

"Why can't I ever get the simple assignments?" she lamented, feeling a headache coming.

Just as she was watching Clark, someone else was watching both of them, unseen.

"Oh Supes..." the gnome sized figure thought, twirling its oversized white mustache. "It's always a riot with you around. I missed you big guy."

"And what do we have here?" the figure thought, running a hand over its shaved head. "Oh, little miss dragon, you have no idea what's going to happen next. Neither does any of us. I guess that's what makes it so exciting!"

The unseen observer kept watching, absolutely giddy, disregarding a shambling nerubian that was trying to sneak up behind it. Without even looking, the figure snapped its tiny fingers and the undead creature found itself unceremoniously transformed into a sheep in a puff of smoke.