Mortal Kombat (7 page)

Only around his neck, and on his chest, did Kung Lao feel naked...

The courtyard of the palace was a giant oblong, made of stone with a huge black-ivory inlay of Shang's dragon. It was said that the ivory was not dyed but had been made from the horns of the dragon itself, a beast that resided in some other realm.

The stone stands reached two hundred hands high and surrounded the courtyard on three sides. They quickly filled with the dozens of participants who awaited their turn to fight, and with the mysterious retainers of Shang Tsung, who never raised their hoods to watch and who never showed any emotion or hostility, even when their own master was defeated. Stone dragons lined the wall behind the uppermost row of the grandstand, their mouths spouting fire at night so that the tournament could continue in the dark; yellow-orange banners bearing the silhouette of the black dragon hung limply from poles stuck in the back of each stone figure. Behind the dragons on the long western wall were the flared red columns of the temple, with its roof of thick green tiles and a repetition of the dragon motif in black tile.

On the fourth side of the courtyard, above the great gate through which the combatants passed, was Shang's throne. The chair was made of iron forged in the shape of human bones, cushioned with the mystically preserved blubber of a whale and covered with a thick throw of fur from one of the sacred pandas – fur only one such as Shang would dare to take. A canopy of unknown material, supported by a column constructed of shark teeth, protected him from the hazy sun. Some said the material was human flesh, but few thought that even the vicious Shang could be capable of such a vile and corrupt display. Kung Lao was not one of the few.

The champion did not arrive with ceremony, though it was his to request, nor did he sit in the special seat that was reserved for him in the center of the lowest row of the grandstand. He preferred to come and go as any participant: he believed that honor had to be won anew each year, not carried over from the previous tournament. However, he was not required to fight until all but the three best martial artists had been eliminated.

The early contests were always interesting and exciting, as an eclectic mix of veterans and newcomers fought in a series of eliminations in three separate areas. Both losers and victors returned to the stands when they were through, the former to watch and learn, the latter to await the next series of bouts.

By nightfall, the trio who would fight in the final rounds had been selected. Kung Lao was required to battle each one in turn. Despite their prowess, and the fact that two of the three were newcomers to Mortal Kombat, Kung Lao made quick work of them all. One of them, a brawny thing who called himself Ulfila the Ostrogoth, did not use the martial arts but attacked violently with a spiked club and shield and tired quickly. Another, Kung Lao's old adversary Mahada, a Mauryan who recited the Vedic "Hymn of Creation" as he fought, put up a noble struggle but lost several teeth during the match – and, with them, his ability to utter the hymn, and his confidence. The third foe, a Roman wrestler named Toisarus, gave Kung Lao some trouble when he pinned him to the ground, but the pain of the champion's self-inflicted lacerations was the added boost he needed to throw the challenger off. In the past, Kung Lao ruminated, the power of the amulet would have ensured that he not find himself in that position in the first place.

All through the long day Kung Lao had continued to feel the presence of something formidable, though as yet he had neither seen, heard, nor smelled anyone that could have been the cause of his unrest.

After beating Toisarus with a shoulder-throw that knocked the air from his lungs and the fight from his limbs, Kung Lao turned to his host, bowed, spread his legs, cocked his arms at his side, and waited. A long moment later Shang Tsung smiled – the first time Kung Lao had ever seen him do so.

"Your victory is impressive," said the host. "The more so because we notice that for the first time you participated without the aid of magic."

"Religion is not magic," Kung Lao said.

"A debatable point for some other time," Shang Tsung said as he continued to smile. "What has earned our attention and respect is that you have won without your amulet." The eyes of the prematurely aged wizard narrowed, and his bushy white brows dipped in the center. "Won – to this point. There is one more battle yet to fight."

"As you can see," Kung Lao said, "I await you."

Shang Tsung looked at him for a moment, then crooked a finger at a hooded figure who stood to his right. "Fan," he said. The figure reached into his robe and removed a folding fan made of rice paper. He moved it from side to side; though his motions were slow and unforceful, banners on the distant wall stirred.

Shang Tsung's smile broadened. The humorless, unnatural grin on that skull-like face made Kung Lao uneasy.

"Did you know," Shang Tsung asked, "that I decided not to fight this year?"

"I am truly sorry to hear that."

"I believe you," Shang Tsung replied. "Do you wish to come forward and accept the benediction of victory?"

Kung Lao remained locked in his combative pose. "You know that goes against the rules of Mortal Kombat. There must be a battle between the champion and his host – or, if the host is debilitated, between the champion and the host's champion."

"Of course," said Shang Tsung. "Otherwise, the winner does not win the ultimate prize: the precious gift of not aging until the next Mortal Kombat."

Kung Lao shook his head. "That isn't why I fight, and I submit that isn't why most of these people are here. They fight for honor, no other reward." He felt the presence more strongly than ever now. Whatever was going to happen, whoever was going to appear would do so soon.

"You're probably right," Shang Tsung admitted. The smile wavered and collapsed. "What good is anything in life if we do not have honor... if we don't control our own souls."

Shang Tsung waved away his servant, then continued to stare at Kung Lao has he clapped his hands once. There was a groaning outside the courtyard, as of a cart being wheeled beneath a staggering weight, and then a clanking and rattling as though chains were being pulled and then dropped. These were followed by the thunderous sound of footfalls in the dark beyond the dragon flames.

"I have decided," Shang Tsung said, "to, ah – take the year off. I'm no longer young, Kung Lao, and felt it would be best for this year at least to let someone else fight on my behalf."

The thundering grew louder as a great and hulking shape began to emerge from the darkness. It was vaguely human in form, but stood over eight feet tall and had – it appeared – not the usual complement of limbs, but more.

As the being approached, Kung Lao felt the sinister presence grow stronger and stronger, as though a great evil had been dropped in their midst. More evil even that Shang Tsung, who, after all, was still human.

This new thing was not. As it bent its titanic head to get under the gate, then stood in the fire-lit courtyard, its red eyes scanned the stands. There were cries of fear from many of the great heroes who had gathered here, and more when the bronze-skinned entity roared, the uppermost of its four powerfully muscled arms thumping its great chest, the lower two reaching impatiently toward Kung Lao. The muscles of each of the four forearms strained against the iron wristbands by which it had been kept manacled, and every one of the three thick fingers on the two lower hands curled, aching for combat. The newcomer's sharp ears twitched with obvious delight as it listened to the fear of the beaten warriors.

When Kung Lao didn't flinch, the creature shook its great head defiantly. Its long, black queue of hair swung pendulously behind it, and its nearly lipless mouth opened wide, exposing white teeth and two sharp fangs glistening with spittle.

The giant shifted impatiently from leg to leg, its clearly defined abdominal muscles straining behind a red leather belt with a Yin and Yang symbol on the buckle, its elephantine leg muscles bulging beneath the blue loincloth it wore.

The monster – for such was the only word that came to Kung Lao's mind – had two powerful claws on each foot, and the one dewclaw behind, and all six of them scratched angrily on the floor of the arena. The gray leggings it wore on its shins seemed about ready to pop from the pressure of the sinew beneath them.

Shang Tsung's eyes gleamed wickedly. "Kung Lao – I would like to introduce you to my champion, the son of King Gorbak and Queen Mai, the Prince of Kuatan and Ruler Supreme of the Armies of the Kingdoms of Shokan."

Kung Lao watched as the brute's evil mouth tightened with rage.

"However," said Shang Tsung, "if you can speak hereafter, you are free to call him by his given name: Goro."

If.

A thousand
if
s flitted through Kung Lao's brain as the behemoth began to move.
If
he had been confident enough to have brought his amulet, he would have stood a better chance against the challenger.
If
he had accepted the championship without the benediction, as the rules
did
permit, his honor and perhaps his life would not be at stake.
If
he had insisted on fighting Shang Tsung, as was his right, then he surely would have won, for the one-time martial arts master had grown frail.

If.

With a roar that shook the flames from the stone dragon's mouths, and thumping footfalls that rattled the courtyard itself, Goro charged his foe. As befitted a warrior-priest of the Order of Light, and a champion of Mortal Kombat, Kung Lao did not stand and wait to receive his attack. He ran at his overbearing challenger, with a piercing cry that came from somewhere deep inside. The shout was so startling, so feral, that even Goro's brutish face registered surprise. But it didn't stop him. The two warriors continued to thunder toward each other.

As much dragon in appearance as human, the beast was not as fleet as Kung Lao, and the champion felt that would be his only advantage. The instant Goro was within reach, Kung Lao turned, dropped to his hands and one knee, and stretched the other leg behind him in an effort to sweep-kick the giant off his feet. Instead, Goro bent and met the attack with his lower right forearm. His stiff limb blocked the kick while his other three arms reached for his quarry.

Taking a quick look behind him, Kung Lao caught one of Goro's hands with a crouch-kick, then tucked himself into a ball and did a backward somersault between the giant's wide legs. Rising quickly behind him, the champion executed a high jump-kick and planted it in the small of Goro's back. The crowd cheered as the titan's arms flew up and his head flew back.

But the blow seemed to simply enrage the leviathan rather than harm him; as Kung Lao jumped to try and land a second quick kick, Goro planted himself firmly on one stout leg and kicked the other behind him, catching Kung Lao on the way up. The kick knocked the champion backward, though he was able to roll with it, somersault again, and land crouching on the stones of the courtyard.

Turning, Goro charged again; this time, Kung Lao waited, then dropped flat on his back, elbows bent up, palms flat on the ground beside his head. Pushing off with his hands, he kicked out with his stiff legs, driving them hard into Goro's abdomen.

A small puff of breath escaped the Prince's gash of a mouth – but Kung Lao knew, from the mass of muscle he'd struck, that Goro hadn't been hurt by the blow. Worse, before he was able to retract his legs, four massive hands closed around them from either side. Lifting Kung Lao into the air, his back toward him, Goro kicked the martial arts master hard between the shoulder blades.

The blow knocked the wind out of him, and Kung Lao knew he couldn't take another. When Goro kicked out again, Kung Lao felt the rush of air and quickly arched forward, grabbed his own ankles, and – still hanging from Goro's hands – pulled himself up and over the outstretched foot. Seizing Goro's momentary imbalance, Kung Lao yanked his feet down hard, freeing himself from the giant's grip and coming down hard on the Prince's still-extended leg.

Goro howled with pain, the crowd roared with approval, as Kung Lao landed; the Order of Light priest simultaneously used the leg as a springboard to jump up and away from Goro. He landed beside his foe, a bit battered but with his arms crossed in front of him, still ready to fight.

The Prince turned toward him, but Kung Lao was quick and drove the bottom of his foot into Goro's right knee. The giant buckled – but again, there was the advantage of those four powerful arms and extraordinary reach. Even as he fell, Goro was able to grab Kung Lao's arms. Goro drew the champion down with him, leaving Kung Lao no offensive maneuver other than to throw a scissor-lock around Goro's neck. The Outworld denizen released Kung Lao's arms and easily pried his legs away – and kept pulling, as though his victim were a dried tree branch.

Shrieking pain shot through Kung Lao's inner thighs, and managing to get his arms under himself, he pushed off with one, twisting himself around like a corkscrew and managing to worm himself from Goro's grasp.

The angry giant pounded the ground with all four fists, in succession, then reached for Kung Lao, who by this time was struggling to stand on legs that felt as sturdy as marsh reeds.

But stand he did, and when Goro came at him, head bowed and charging like an animal, Kung Lao backflipped away – then stopped while he was still standing on his hands and suddenly flung himself feet-first toward the titan. His feet landed on the back of Goro's neck, driving his chin into the hard tile of the dragon symbol and drawing greenish blood.

Goro stood, the red eyes coal-hot and wide, and Kung Lao knew that hurting his foe without being able to deliver a final blow had been a mistake.

Swinging his head around furiously, Goro whipped his queue around so fast that, if it connected, Kung Lao suspected it would break his back. Jumping back repeatedly, Kung Lao found himself backed against the lowest row of seats on the southern side of the arena. While the onlookers scurried, and Kung Lao tried to avoid the whirling hair, Goro drove all four fists ahead of him. Three connected with the stone, cracking it; the fourth caught Kung Lao in the left shoulder while he jumped to the side to avoid the other three.