Mortal Kombat (11 page)

There
was
an agent who was at two o'clock on the watch dial, an agent whose job was to make sure that no one died... unless it was one of the Black Dragons. That agent was a U.S. operative by the name of Sonya Blade.

It had been a close one, but Sonya had been prepared to act. Though her orders were that she let Kano lead her to Shang Tsung, she would've taken him and Moriarty out before she'd have let the shepherd die.

Fortunately, Kung Lao had capitulated and the crisis had been averted. She would be able to keep on playing the role she had created for herself, that of master criminal Gilda Stahl.

She'd looked at the frightened faces of villagers peering from dark windows as they walked through Wuhu, saw how they feared for the well-being of Kung Lao, saw how important he was to them. She wondered if there were a greater feeling one could have than affecting so many lives in such a positive way.

Kung Lao had taken the band to the temple, where he had shown them to a great library in the center of the centuries-old structure. There, Kano had tied a leather strap around the shepherd's neck and then attached it to Moriarty's neck, with instructions to waste the boy if Kung Lao did anything shady.

"If this operation goes smooth," Kano had said to the priest, "everyone lives. If not, then the flockmeister buys it toot sweet and some other villager gets to wear the leash. We got a radio here so I can stay in touch with whoever I leave behind. Kapish?"

Kung Lao said that he understood, and promised Kano that there would be no trouble – though he urged him again to consider carefully what he was proposing to do.

"What you plan," said the priest, "will help to make Shang Tsung the most powerful mortal on earth. Worse than that, I fear it will help to pave the way for the coming of one of the most powerful immortals
off
the earth–the foul Shao Kahn and his demonic hordes."

"Ya drivel too much," Kano answered, with his usual keen insight. "Clam up and tell me about Mt. Ifukube."

And then Kung Lao had taken a lantern and gone up a spiral stairwell to the balcony of scrolls that surrounded it. While he looked through the manuscripts in plain view of the gang leader, the rest of them sat on a mat in the center of the floor, getting ready to eat a meal that was brought in by monks.

Before eating the broth that had been served to him, Kano had made Chin Chin try it. The boy raised the bowl to his lips and sipped.

"How d'ya feel?" Kano said, eyeing the lad as he put the bowl down.

"Warmer," the boy admitted. "The broth is very hot."

"I don't mean that, ya rube. I mean is it poisoned?"

"No, sir," the boy said.

Nodding, Kano took the plain, white, glazed ceramic bowl and drank heartily.

"Unless," Chin Chin said, "the cook used the slow-acting
toireh
root, in which case we will not know until morning."

Kano's red eye fastened on the boy like a laser beam. He stopped drinking. "Are you joking?"

"No, sir," said the boy, genuinely frightened. "I-I am merely answering your question."

Kano twisted toward Kung Lao. "Hey, preacher man," he said. "Would any of your guys be stupid enough to try 'n' poison me?"

Kung Lao said, "We teach here that however corrupt the individual, murder is wrong. Within these walls, you needn't fear any danger. Not from any of us, certainly."

The priest's eyes seemed to linger on Sonya, though she wondered if she only imagined it. He couldn't possibly know who she was or why she was here. Only Liu Kang and her superior at the Special Forces, Col. David George, knew her mission.

Kano considered what Kung Lao had said, then nodded. "That's a good rule. Keeps the scrolls from getting perforated with the bullets that miss the cook. I was all set to go out and make myself hurl – not that this soup doesn't
taste
like it's poisoned. What's it seasoned with – yak fur?"

"Pheasant bill," said Kung Lao. "When we are forced to kill life to sustain our own, we see to it that nothing goes to waste. We use the feathers to stuff our pillows, the talons to make writing imple–"

"Hey, that's great," Kano said. "Real interestin'. Now, how about that map of the road to Ifukube?"

"It's coming," Kung Lao said.

Schneider snorted into his broth. "Sounds like a Bob Hope movie," he said. "One of the ones he made with Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour."

"Zip it, Schnides," Kano hissed. "Let the holy moley concentrate on doin' his job."

"I wasn't talkin' to him–"

"I don't care
who
you was talkin' to, Schnides. It's distractin'."

"How about you
both
shut up," Moriarty said, yelling to be heard over the sounds of the Walkman plugged in his ears. "I can't hear my damn tunes!"

Kano fired eye-daggers at him, and then at Schneider, but both men fell silent as the leader brought the soup bowl to his lips.

While the men had argued, Sonya had suddenly become aware that the priest was staring at her. And as he did, she could feel something pass between them, something intangible; whatever it was, she felt as if he were inside her brain, searching for something. And when he seemed to find it, his eyes smiled and he returned at his scroll.

"Here it is," Kung Lao said as he started down the steps. "The map you requested. Mt. Ifukube is now known as Mt. Angilas, named after the archaeologist who did many of the excavations of the caves at the turn of this century."

"Thanks for the history lesson," Kano said. "Why don't you go get yerself some shoes while we finish eating? I want to go as soon as we're done."

"But this is not a path to be traveled in the dark," Kung Lao said. "There are many dangers–"

"Don't worry," Kano said. "We've got flashlights and many guns. We'll be fine."

Kung Lao said, "The dangers I speak of are not all of this world. You are venturing into the realm of the gods."

"Now it sounds like a Steve Reeves movie," Schneider said. "Or
Jason and the Argonauts.
Ever see that?"

"Yeah," Kano said, "and for once, I agree with you. Let's get a move-on." Finishing his broth and rising, he said, "Moriarty–give Schnides the MK. You'll stay here with Senny, one uplink yakker, the carbine, and a whole lotta shells. Anything happens to us, you guys turn Wuhu into a used people lot."

"Gotcha," Moriarty said, giving the weapon to Schneider and taking the satellite-linked telephone from Jim Woo.

Kano took a deep breath and looked at Kung Lao. "Nobody's gettin' any younger, monk-master. How about we move it out?"

Kung Lao rang a bell, and when one of the monks appeared, the priest asked him for his hat and a pouch for the scroll. When the monk brought the items, Kung Lao carefully placed the rolled map inside the ox-skin pouch and slung it over his shoulder. He donned the pointed cap, smiled benignly at Chin Chin, then walked, still barefoot and wearing only his robe, into the cool night.

Behind him, in a row, were Kano, with his knife drawn; Schneider, with the M44 tucked under his arm; Jim Woo, with a backpack containing the rest of their food and the second the telephones – and Sonya Blade, who had her hand on the knife with the electronic bug in its hilt, and her eyes on the priest, who was far more than he seemed to be.

"Are you sure?" Shang Tsung howled. "Are you
very
sure, Ruthay?"

The tortured voice of the demonic regent rose from the circular streak on the floor. "I... am...
certain
. An ancient enemy has reached out to a new ally... in dreams. In
dreams,
Shang Tsung!"

"Who is this ancient enemy?" Shang Tsung asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

The long-imprisoned devil wailed, "Our foe... is the obscene Thunder Lord Rayden... who... like our great Lord
Shao Kahn
... is a child of the original being!"

"It cannot be," Shang Tsung snarled. "Why has Rayden returned after all these years?"

"I fear, Shang Tsung... that he
never left
! It was he... who tutored Kung Lao the first... maker of the amulet you seek. I sense...
that he has always been among us
... manipulating events... in secret."

"Why? To protect the amulet?"

"In part...
yes
!"

"Why didn't he just destroy it?"

"He cannot," Ruthay said. "What was forged by god... and given to mortal... cannot be
retrieved
...."

The wizard's fingers curled into a tight ball, and he rattled it at the circle of ooze-covered powder on the floor of the shrine. "I haven't come this far to be stopped by a mortal... even a mortal who is aided by a deity!"

"Then you must
act
... against Liu."

Shang Tsung nodded. He would love to find a way to act against Rayden himself, but he dared not step into the circle to consult with Shao Kahn. He didn't want to face the god's ire now that they knew the blundering idiot Kano was being followed – and by three members of the White Lotus Society no less – men, women, and even children who were masters of the martial and ninja arts. Even if he were to send Goro out to intercept them, that was no guarantee of victory. The giant Shokanite might have no trouble stopping one of the White Lotus members, but three? For that, Shang Tsung would need special assistance. Help that was sly and moved like the hornet, quietly and unseen.

"Where is he, Ruthay? Where is the only one who can help me?"

There was a long pause. "I... am looking." Then, the disembodied voice said, "I
see
him... Shang Tsung. He is hiding."

"Where?"

"In a cave... in a cliff... north of Wenzhou."

"That's just like him," Shang Tsung said. "With the fees he charges, he could live in splendor. Yet he chooses a life of hardship and study."

"And
death
!" Ruthay said.

"Yes, death," Shang Tsung admitted. "Don't be too harsh on him, Ruthay. Some people deserve to die. I will summon him–"

"Wait! Be
warned
, Shang Tsung. He is cursed!"

"Cursed? By whom?"

Ruthay wailed, "By the immortal Yu."

Shang Tsung felt cold spiders crawl up his spine. "The demigod Yu?"

"Yes... he who is said to dwell in the underground caverns of Horse Ear Mountain... which is sacred to the goddess Kuan Lin. He who protects the canals... and the tunnels... and looks after all who use them, human and animal."

"What did our brash friend do to Yu?"

"He...
killed
a man," said Ruthay.

"What man?"

"A toll-taker... one who had given up a life of crime... one who had been a partner of the man... you... seek."

"And how did that crime come to the attention of the spirit of Yu?" Shang Tsung asked.

"The man was killed...
slowly disemboweled with a sword
... while accomplices forced his wife and his son to look on! After his murder... the man's remains... were dumped into a canal!"

Shang Tsung raised an eyebrow. "Is that all? I was expecting something truly terrible!"

"It
was
!" Ruthay shrieked. "When he disposed of the body... in
that way
... he profaned one of the sacred
waterways
... of Yu!"

Shang Tsung smiled now. "Then he is definitely the man I want," he said. "Anyone who is impudent enough to insult a demigod won't be afraid to attack a member of the White Lotus Society, or the gods who watch after them. I will send Hamachi, Ruthay. When he nears his goal, see through his eyes and guide him!"

"Yes...
Shang Tsung
...."

Turning and leaving the room, his green-and-gold robe swirling around him, Shang Tsung went up the stone staircase to the highest room of the southern pagoda. Though anger was still hot on his features, at least he saw a way to protect Kano without having to give Shao Kahn another portion of his soul.

Opening the door, the wizard pushed past the two hooded souls that were attending to the many birds in the palace aviary. The bulk of the collection of birds from around the world, and their ornate cages of balsa and steel, of bamboo and ivory, of twigs and even string, was for Shang Tsung's own enjoyment. He luxuriated in the specimens, which ranged from the common nightingale to the imposing pine grosbeak, from the rufous-sided towhee to the glorious yellow warbler, from the black vulture to the red-tailed hawk.

But some of the birds were kept more for practical purposes. His falcons were trained to fly to the mainland and kill with claws of poison, while his beautiful white pigeons were trained to carry messages to spots all across eastern China.

Going to a small writing table tucked in a corner of the stone chamber, Shang Tsung lit a candle, dipped a fountain pen in red ink, and wrote in small, tight characters on a slip of rice paper:

LIU KANG AND TWO OTHER MEMBERS OF THE WHITE LOTUS SOCIETY ARE CAMPED TO THE WEST OF WUHU, HEADED EAST TO INTERCEPT A BAND OF BLACK DRAGONS. THESE INTERLOPERS MUST BE STOPPED. YOU ARE MY LAST HOPE. RETURN THE BIRD WITH A TOKEN SO I WILL KNOW THAT YOU HAVE GONE AFTER THEM.

SHANG TSUNG

After finishing the message, the sorcerer went over to one of the cages, carefully removed a pigeon, rolled the paper around its right leg, and fixed it there with a length of red string. Holding the bird in both hands, he made his way under and around the many cages to the window. The black shutters of the window were closed, and one of the hooded servants scuttled over, released the catch, and threw it open.

Shang Tsung bent close to the bird and said softly, "I know you won't fail me as my fellow humans have, devoted Hamachi. Fly true and take my urgent message to the region you know so well. Ruthay will see through your eyes and guide you from there. Then return to me, my delicate servant. Come back safely and soon, and I will offer up a human sacrifice to you."

With a last look into the black-pearl eyes of his precious messenger, Shang Tsung threw the pigeon out the window and watched the bird bat its white wings until it was swallowed by the starlit sky.