Mortal Kombat

by Jeff Rovin

  “Don’t get too far ahead!” Kano yelled. “Y’hear me, sky pilot?”

  “Say, Chief,” Schneider said, “Don’t you think you ought to show the man some respect? I mean, he is a high priest and all.”

  “A priest o’ what?” Kano snickered. “The Order of Light? Whazzat, like religion lite – don’t fill ya up?” He jogged up to Kung Lao and poked him in the side with his knife. “Tell me, King Kung. Exactly what is the Order of Light?”

  “Are you asking to mock me, or because you wish to learn?”

  “What’s it to you?” Kano said. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll radio back an’ have Moriarty turn Chin’s head cheese into Swiss cheese.”

  Kung Lao shook his head. “The strong always persecute the faithful… and always lose, in the end. But I’ll tell you, Kano. The Order of Light is a faith some twenty centuries old.”

  “That’s two thousand years!” Schneider shouted.

  “Thanks, Einstein,” Kano shouted back.

  Kung Lao continued, “We believe that the basic lights are knowledge, love, and art, and that there are many lesser lights, including experience, sacrifice, charity, labor, and denial. We teach that these lights contribute to a good and holy soul, and that such a soul can withstand all evil.”

  “So yer sayin’,” said Kano, that if Schnides, here, put a gun to your back and pulled the trigger, bullets’ll turn yer heart to paste but you won’t die?”

  “Of course I’ll die,” Kung Lao said. “But death does not change the quality of the life that has ended, nor the legacy I will have left behind.”

  “But you’d still be deader than Abe Lincoln.”

  “Yes,” Kung Lao agreed. “But the Order of Light is not so much concerned with the individual life. Rather, we are interested in the stream of lives, the great parade of human souls that are part of the vast soul of the god P’an Ku. We believe that if these souls are all made virtuous, perhaps humanity as a whole can approach the greatness that was manifested in this seminal god.”

  “Jeez,” said Kano. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “And I am sorry you didn’t hear,” Kung Lao said.

  Kano fell back and walked beside Schneider. “Did that guy just dis me?”

  “I think you dissed yourself,” Schneider said, “but what do I know?” He tapped the side of his head with an index finger. “Everything in this temple I learned from watching movies. If Charlton Heston or Victor Mature didn’t say it, I don’t know it.”

  Kano shook his head and dropped farther back. “I don’t believe this, Gilly,” he said, walking beside the woman and Jim Woo. “I’m startin’ t’think I’m the only sane one here.”

  “That is scary,” she said, picking up speed so that she didn’t lose sight of Kung Lao as he entered a glen where the fog was shoulder-high and thicker than before. Dense clouds rolled in front of the gibbous moon.

  The crackling of dried twigs and crisp foliage underfoot was amplified by the fog and darkness.

  “Hey, Lao!” Kano yelled as the light became a hazy blur in the thickening fog. “Just remember – lose us, and you lose Chin.”

  “I have promised to lead you to the mountain, “Kung Lao said, “and I will keep my word… for as long as I’m able.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kano asked. “You’ll be able to lead for as long as I–”

  Kano swallowed the rest of his words as sheet lightning exploded above them. The fog rolled away like smoke caught by a brisk wind, the sky was festive with stars – and the Thunder God Rayden stood on the thick limb of a tree, gazing down at the travelers.

  “You will not take another step!” he roared.

  Kano and the others looked up.

  “Holy manifestations,” Schneider said, his lower jaw hanging loosely.

  Kano reached over to his dumbstruck aide and tore the carbine from around his arm. He raised the barrel toward Rayden and fired: each bullet was met by a flash of lightning from the tip of the Thunder God’s finger, and vanished in an explosive burst.

  Throwing the M44 down in disgust, Kano whipped out his knife and threw it with deadly accuracy; Rayden caught it in front of his chest and it vanished in a magnesium-bright flare.

  “Enough,” Rayden said, his eyes icy-white beneath the brim of his pyramid-shaped straw hat. There was another flash of lightning and then the Thunder God was standing beside Kano. His fists were at his side, tiny bursts of electricity crackling around each of his fingers. “You have come where you are not welcome,” Rayden said. “You will leave your weapons here and go.”

  There was another flash then, though it was not like the previous ones. This burst was a deep, deep red, and it didn’t so much rip through the sky as push the darkness aside in a fat, jagged shape, and hold it that way for a long moment. Two figures stepped from within, one tall and slender, the other much taller and more powerful.

  The Thunder God turned to face them, and a smile played about the big mouth of the larger figure.

  “Rayden!” boomed the tremor-deep voice of Goro. “I have long wanted to meet you!”

  Beside Goro, Shang Tsung smiled as he looked at the figure holding the flashlight.

  “Kung Lao, I presume,” he said. “How much you look like your ancestor. And how fitting – since, in just a very few moments, the two of you will be reunited.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tsui Park was lying on his straw-filled cot, staring through tears at the thatched ceiling of the hut. From the corner of his eye, he saw the lights of the village through the open window. All around, people were relaxing after dinner. Those with televisions were watching them, others were playing checkers or chess, still others were talking under the stars and smoking pipes or drinking tea. A few close friends and brave souls had come to pay their respects, but not all; the rumors of who had done it, and how, had kept the fearful at bay. Tsui had been forced to fish his father’s body from the water alone, for no one had been brave enough to help.

  His mother had finally gone to sleep after crying for a day, and now that he no longer had her to look after Tsui was able to tend to his own needs, look after his own profound sense of loss.

  Why had they done this? he asked himself.

  He was not unschooled in the ways of the ninja. His father had told him about his own past, and about the displeasure of his masters when he turned his back on the life of the shadow warriors. But that was twenty years before. Why had they come for him now?

  “Because they couldn’t find me.”

  Tsui sat up. “Who’s there?”

  The blackness in the room seemed to shift; light from the outside was reflected form the washing basin and radio, from a metal lamp and looking glass… save where a black cloud seemed to move. There, it was only darkness.

  “Don’t be afraid, Tsui,” the voice said. “It is your father.”

  The young man shook his head. His long, lean jaw went slack, and his clear brown eyes seemed to be swallowed in white.

  “It isn’t possible. This is more of their work – a trick.”

  “It is no trick.”

  The voice came closer, and as the shadow also grew larger, Tsui realized that the one was coming from the other. He backed against the brick wall of the hut.

  “I have come to ask your help,” the specter of Yong Park said. “The demigod Yu has sent me to avenge my death… through you.”

  “No,” Tsui said. “I’m hallucinating from grief.”

  A dark limb reached toward him, and though Tsui did not feel what looked like fingers, he felt an icy chill on his forearm.

  “I am no illusion,” said Yong, coming closer. “I am the eternal soul of Yong Park – immortal yet helpless, for I cannot touch. I cannot hold.” The ethereal voice was right beside him now. “I cannot kill. For that, my son, I need your body.”

  “You… want my body – how?”

  “To inhabit it, for a time. So that my spirit, my skills, can become yours, while your mind and heart remain as they
are, virtuous and clean.”

  “Forever?” Tsui asked. “Will you stay with me forever?”

  “We will become one,” Yong Park whispered, “but only until the task is completed. And then I will go to my rest, and you will return to your life here, with your mother.”

  “Mother,” Tsui said, sliding from the bottom of the bed. “I must wake her and tell her.”

  A chilly hand came up in front of Tsui, stopping him. “No, my son!”

  “Why not? Mother will want to know that you are – what you are. Still alive, in some way.”

  “Not alive,” Yong said, “nor will she be able to see and hear me. Every soul has its own plane, and Yu has placed me on the plane inhabited by your spirit only. No one else will know that I’m with you.”

  Tsui shook his head again. “This can’t be happening. Shock has cost me my mind.”

  “It is happening,” said Yong.

  As Tsui looked on, the shadow began to change. While the legs and chest and the head remained black, gold began to rematerialize where the arms and shoulders would be, across the mouth and cheeks, while flesh appeared on the forehead and around the dark eyes. The fingers took shape and turned gold and reached out toward the young man.

  “Yu has given me the power of one of his creatures,” said the spirit as he entered his son’s body. “In addition to the skills I bequeath you, my immortal benefactor has given me something special with which to avenge myself.”

  Tsui grew cold and numb as his father’s ghostly form merged with his own, as his bare hands took on the shape of golden gloves, his head was shrouded in a dark cowl and golden mask, and his legs and torso were covered with a black bodysuit.

  “A sting,” Yong said.

  The coldness left Tsui, and he no longer felt afraid. He rose from the bed and looked down at his hands. “Yes,” he said, running his fingers across the backs of the gauntlets. “I feel it in here.” He swung toward the window, quickly crouched, and aimed his fist toward a tree. Simply by wishing it, he sent a short, barbed shaft flying from the back of his wrist. It whistled through the air, hit the tree, passed through it, and hit an ice bucket on the other side.

  Tsui stood tall. “I am ready, Father,” he said. “Ready to let those who wronged you feel my wrath… the wrath of Scorpion!”

  After writing a note telling his mother not to worry about him, Tsui left by the window and was swallowed by the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ready and wary, Rayden watched Goro as the giant’s four enormous hands opened and shut slowly, menacingly. Several of the fingers scratched at the air.

  “Do not move yet, Thunder God!” Goro said, his voice rumbling, pointed ears turned slightly forward, fierce red eyes aglow with anticipation.

  “Yes,” Shang Tsung said to the Thunder God, “let’s savor this moment, why don’t we? Our meeting has been a long time coming – though frankly, I wish it could have been postponed a little longer.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Rayden said.

  “You misunderstand,” Shang Tsung said. “I’m not disappointed at all. It’s just that not all of us can simply up and flash here and there as you can. Shao Kahn was annoyed to learn what has happened, and most put out to have to teleport us here. As you can imagine, it drains the Lord’s energy whenever he has to send his magic through the dimensional barrier.”

  “He is not the Lord,” Kung Lao protested.

  “Perhaps not yours, not yet,” Shang Tsung said as he came a few steps closer to the Thunder God. The light from Rayden’s glowing eyes revealed skin that was more wrinkled than ever, eyes that were a bit duller, posture slightly more stooped beneath the weight of his robe. Shang Tsung had about him the look and smell of death. “It cost me a piece of my soul to enable Shao Kahn to send his power over,” the wizard rasped. “But the good news, Rayden, is that when Goro defeats you and we send your godly soul to the Outworld, not only will my soul be entirely restored to me, but Shao Kahn will have enough souls to be able to come through to our realm. Although,” his gaze turned flatly from face to face, “I’m not entirely sure why he wants this plane of existence. Quality control seems to have slipped somewhat in fifteen hundred years.”

  Kung Lao came forward. “Shang, this confrontation need not be. Evil is not the answer. Join with us.”

  “Join the Order of Light?” Shang snickered. “You’ve been too long in isolation, priest. Besides, I’m keen to reacquire my soul.”

  “You can do that through us,” Kung Lao insisted. “Shao Kahn doesn’t own it. He merely holds it. We can help you get it back.”

  Shang Tsung bowed slightly at the waist. “Thank you, high priest, but I’d much rather have my soul and help Shao Kahn rule the world. Even you can see, I think, where that would hold some appeal.”

  “Shao Kahn will destroy you,” Rayden said.

  “Sour grapes,” Shang Tsung said through pursed lips. “But speaking of destroying – Goro, you have work to do.”

  “Yes!” the Shokanite bellowed, as he bent his head like a charging bull and ran toward Rayden.

  The Thunder God vanished in a flash of light and reappeared in a burst on the treetop as Goro ran past.

  “Kung Lao is correct, Shang Tsung!” Rayden said. “Joining him is the only way to save yourself!”

  “I wouldn’t worry about saving me, just now,” Shang Tsung said.

  As the sorcerer spoke, Goro’s mighty legs stopped him in his tracks. The brute turned toward Rayden, cocked back his lower right arm, and drove his fist into the mighty tree; the night filled with the crackling sound of the impact, along with shards of bark and trunk exploding in all directions. Rayden leapt down, landing on Goro’s shoulders and vaulting off again, somersaulting to the top of another tree. With an angry roar, Goro turned, charged the tree, and ran into a lightning bolt that Rayden discharged toward the ground.

  “Yeawwww-owww!” Goro yelled as he was bounced back, smoke rising from where his bronze flesh had touched the sizzling bolt. There were burned, black patches on his loincloth and red belt.

  “That was not sporting,” Shang Tsung remarked. “Had you used a special move from high ground in Mortal Kombat, you would have been disqualified.”

  Rayden somersaulted from the tree, landed between Goro and Shang Tsung, and held up both hands. “I will stand and fight,” he said, “but you must let the mortals go.”

  “But of course!” Shang Tsung exclaimed. “That’s why I’m here. Had you left them alone, all of this would have been unnecessary.”

  “No,” Rayden said. “They must return to the village, not go to the holy mountain.” Shang Tsung took a step toward him. “Kung Lao may return to the village. The rest go forward.”

  “No!” Rayden yelled.

  “Too much talk!” Goro snarled.

  Leaping at Rayden, the savage Outworlder managed to wrap all four arms around him before the Thunder God was able to act. Rayden pulled his arms forward and drove his elbows back hard, into the giant’s side, but Goro didn’t seem to feel it. He shifted his lower arms to Rayden’s wrists and enclosed the Thunder God’s hands within his massive paws.

  “Try firing bolts now!” the brute laughed as he squeezed Rayden’s fists into tiny balls, then executed his rib-crushing chest-thump on the Thunder God.

  As the two otherworldly beings fought, Shang Tsung faced Kung Lao. The wizard held his hands at his sides, palms up, and smoke began to curl from them.

  “Now, priest – continue on your way. East… toward the mountain.”

  “I will not,” Kung Lao said.

  Beside them, Rayden hooked his feet behind Goro’s legs, leaned forward, then drove his head back hard while simultaneously pulling his feet toward him. Goro’s head flew back while his legs went forward, dropping him flat on his back. The fall knocked the wind from him, and the unevenness of the terrain caused him to lose his grip on Rayden. The Thunder God was on his feet in an instant and backing away.

  “You retreat, cowar
d!” Goro said as he scrambled back to his feet.

  “Not retreating–” Rayden said

  As soon as Goro was standing, Rayden jumped forward, facedown, arms extended before him, legs stretched straight behind him. His fists struck Goro hard in the midsection; the giant bent in half and flew back. Instead of letting him get up, Rayden stood close to his attacker and grabbed him by two of his arms. Grimacing from the weight of the beast, Rayden distributed the load by putting a bended leg in front, another behind, lifting the snarling Goro above his head, and throwing him.

  “Just using a Torpedo and Throw combination,” the Thunder God said.

  Goro hit the ground with a crash, sending up a cloud of earth and foliage. But as he fell, his massive right hands landed on one of the fallen trees; hidden in the swirl of soil of leaves, he lifted the shattered tree and swung it outward, catching Rayden in the side and sending him flying.

  “That, too, wasn’t sporting,” Shang Tsung observed, “but you deserved it, Thunder God.”

  Goro was on his feet before Rayden. Charging him, the Shokanite ducked the head-blow Rayden tried to throw from his back and pinned him with three hands while he tried to pummel him with the fourth. With lightning speed Rayden ducked and bobbed his head from side to side. Managing to curl his feet under the giant, the Thunder God threw him over his head, causing Kano and Schneider to scatter as the bronze beast landed in their midst.

  “I still can’t believe it,” Kano said as he and his cohort ran behind a boulder. “That’s the guy who came into my room. He’s got four damn arms!”

  Rayden and Goro both scrambled to their feet and faced each other. Rayden held his right hand edge out, at face level, his left arm fisted and cocked at his side. Goro stood with all four arms moving slowly, like a wrestler poised to attack.

  “I imagine that this will take quite some time to complete,” Shang Tsung said to Kung Lao, “time you don’t have.” By now, the columns of smoke rising from his palms were thick and gray. “Will you take Kano to the amulet?”