Iroh released fire into his hands and feet and jumped up onto the wall to the right of the gate. He'd heard Asami yell for more steam, but he wanted to see for himself what her pocket lightning storm had done. He had only the vaguest idea as to what had actually happened—did steam conduct electricity then?—but her creation might have just made the difference between their simply delaying the inevitable and winning outright. For the first time in several hours, Iroh felt something like hope.
He looked over the wall just in time to see Asami slam into the thick ice, then collapse. An enormous spirit with a mass of sharp, pointed horns stood about ten feet away. It must have thrown her into the wall. It lowered its head, the purple tips of its rack glowing faintly, preparing another charge.
Iroh's vision went red.
He vaulted off the gate and landed in a crouch in front of Asami. He stood, extended his hands, palms out, and unleashed a blast of deep purple flame nearly as wide as the gate itself. It shot out of his hands in a blazing cone, engulfing the stag spirit and everything else within 40 feet of where Asami had fallen. The spirits that had been approaching the gate swirled and churned, then vanished into darkness. It wasn't even close.
Iroh turned to Asami. She lay on her back in the snow, her gloved arm across her stomach. Her eyes were open. She blinked slowly, as if stunned. The snow underneath her head had started to turn a deep, ugly red.
Oh no. No no no no no no no.
Iroh pulled off his jacket and flipped it over, exposing the cloth lining. The cold bit into him. He used his teeth to start a tear up one side, then ripped two wide strips of fabric from the inside of the coat. It wouldn't be sterile, but the fabric was soft and would help to slow the bleeding. He gently lifted Asami's head, trying not to move her neck too much, and placed a folded strip of fabric against where he thought the wound must be. There was a lot of blood. Keeping the pressure on with one hand, he wound the second strip of cloth around her head and secured it in as tight a knot as he dared. Asami closed her eyes.
"Hey," he said. He gently tapped her cheek. It felt hot. "I need you to stay awake, okay?" Asami blinked and stared up at him. Her pupils were slightly dilated. "Focus on me. Can you do that?"
"I think he left already," Asami said slowly. That was not good. Iroh was no medic, but he had enough field training to know confusion with a head injury was a bad sign. He took the rest of his jacket and laid it over her, tucking in the edges as best he could. Already under-dressed for the polar temperatures, he would have to firebend a lot more to keep from freezing in only a t-shirt, but that hardly mattered at the moment.
"Katara!" he yelled. He glanced across the gate, but didn't see her. Of course, she must still be behind it. He looked down at Asami, then at the approaching spirits. His fire hadn't cleared the field for long. He didn't want to move her, but he had to get her to Katara and behind some sort of cover.
Iroh leaned down and, as careful as possible not to move her head, lifted Asami into his arms. "The little bent ones," she mumbled, and closed her eyes again. Iroh stood, then climbed through the gate, turning sideways as he tried not to jostle her.
He found Katara on the other side. She looked tired and a bit disheveled, but was otherwise all right. "I heard you yell," she said. "What happened to her?"
"Knocked into the wall. I don't know how bad. She's bleeding." He walked about 20 paces from the wall and gently laid Asami down, trying to wrap his coat more firmly around her as he did so. Katara knelt next to her, then began to draw water out of one of her bending pouches.
"Iroh, the gate," she said sharply. Iroh turned to see two large spirits, the komodo rhino and some kind of horse, climbing through the holes after them. He raised his hands and saw that his right was smeared with blood. Rage such as he had never felt in his life filled him, heavy and dark and cold, so cold. He bent his arms back, then in one smooth motion sent fire straight at the two spirits. A jet of almost solid blue flame shot from his hands in a continuous stream.
Iroh walked forward slowly, deliberately, never letting up. He no longer felt tired. When he got to the gate, he stepped easily through the hole he had melted in its center. The tips of the slagged pieces of metal glowed a dull orange in the dim light. Beyond the gate, the remainder of the spirits waited.
Iroh walked out to meet them, cold blue fire blazing before him.