Disclaimers: MK, MKC, its characters and concept belong to the usual suspects. Story and original characters belong to dragon.
Time: After The Mines.
Place: MKC universe, between point A and point B.
Spoilers: See The Mines.
Time of Trial
© 2000, dragon
Part One
Rayden couldn't recall having been blindsided before. The attack had come suddenly. He was coming back up off the ground almost before he realized he had hit it. He came up facing his attacker. His brows rose in surprise.
Kaeisha grinned. Oh, boy. Too many teeth. And sharp. Before Rayden could ask why, she was on him again, pounding him, tearing at him, beating him. He fought back, yet there was this slight touch of panic in the background. He was a god, he was a fighter, but nothing he did seemed to stop this -- female -- thing. He reeled away from the attack, trying to find a lull in the action, to catch his breath, to ---
She was behind him, wrenching his head back and sinking her teeth into his neck. He screamed. The pain was -- was -- His eyes rolled back in his head for a few moments as he felt his very essence being drained out of him.
Release. He fell forward onto the ground. He felt weak, drained, nearly dead. From some inner reservoir he found the strength to turn onto his back and lean up, braced on one elbow. The woman had been striking, as well as formidable. Now she was -- terrifying. Her dark hair lifted on unseen, unfelt currents of power. Her eyes were golden, sparks and streaks lightning playing in their depths. She focused on him, her lips peeled back from her teeth in what he had a horrible feeling was a smile.
"Come." The word had power in it, compelling power.
Rayden staggered to his feet and leaned against a boulder that had escaped destruction during their short fight. "Where? What have you done to me?" There was a frightening emptiness within him. Where he should have found the flooding power of the storm to support him, there was nothing. For the second time in his long life, he was powerless.
"OutWorld."
"No!" The word ripped from him, memories he had carefully submerged since his emergence from that realm threatening to drown him in the misery and pain of his time there.
The eyes blinked, really looked at him and she frowned. She touched him lightly, sharing those memories for a moment. She nodded. "Stay here."
She turned and gestured, a whirling vortex opened before her. He could feel the pull of the gate between this world and OutWorld.
"Wait!" he called as she strode across the ground toward it. She stopped and looked back. "What -- Why? What will you do there?"
"Take Shao Kahn."
The enormity of the statement was mind boggling. "Why?" The question was almost a whisper.
"This is not the only realm. Nor is OutWorld. Nor is Shao Kahn the greatest force of destruction. With his power, I will have enough to stop the destruction of all realms."
"All --" Rayden felt his mind go as numb as his body. "All -- " He wanted to ask what she was that she could take power and wield it in the defense of a universe. He wasn't certain he wanted the answer.
She smiled, more gently, turned and stepped into the vortex. It snapped shut behind her.
Rayden sat down on a rock. Now what was he going to do?
While Rayden pondered his next move, a vortex opened in the throne room of OutWorld. The self proclaimed ruler of the realm was slouched on his throne. He straightened as the gateway opened. He leaped to his feet, pulling a sword as someone of immense power stepped through. He relaxed. A woman. A beautiful woman, long hair bound back by iridescent ribbons, pale skin glowing in the gloom of his throne room; leather and silk combining to create an intriguing costume on her well formed body. Their eyes met and he knew a moment's trepidation. She smiled. Something about her smile troubled the paranoid ruler of OutWorld.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Your downfall."
His sword swung as he leaped to the attack. Shock. She batted the blade away as though it had been a wooden practice sword swung by a beginner instead of three and a half feet of sharpened steel with the battle honed muscles and stolen powers of the Emperor of OutWorld behind it. She circled his wrist with one hand, the long tapering fingers encircling and holding. The other hand caught his throat and held him. He clawed at the hand, her arm with his free hand. He slammed his fist into what he could reach of her, each blow enough to fell a normal mortal.
Slowly, savoringly, she drew him to her, twisting the wrist of the hand holding his sword until he dropped it with a cry. Their mouths met. Heat. Need. Desire. All these leaped through the emperor, his dark eyes wide with something akin to fear, then narrowing, closing as her mouth demanded his, took what she sought and left him weak kneed in his need for more. His arms encircled her, all thought of fight leaving him, he sought to take what she offered.
His eyes slammed open in horror as her teeth fastened on his tongue, holding him, draining him, sucking him dry. He could not move. He could only stare into those molten golden eyes and know that Shao Kahn had lost. His powers drained into her, her eyes reflecting the power building within her. She gained substance even as he lost his. He could not bellow his pain, could not curse at the demon devouring his essence, could not even whimper in terror. Idly, a portion of his mind wondered if his knees or his heart would give out first.
Knees.
He wasn't expecting her to let go. He had developed a fatalistic resignation. And then he was released. Shao Kahn's imperial butt hit the stone floor of his throne room. The skull mask that had hidden his face for centuries slid out of place. He reached up to find it was loose against his face. Wonder and horror warred in his eyes as he debated what to do. With a resigned shrug, he removed it.
Most of OutWorld, and the rest of the realms, assumed that the Emperor was somehow disfigured behind the mask. They were wrong. There was some indication that the man was mad as the proverbial hatter, but the face behind the mask was disarmingly open. His brow was lofty, his eyes smoldering brown set under nearly winging brows, his nose was straight from brow to end with flaring nostrils. His lips were full, as could always be seen, but now they were not curved in their habitual sneer.
In removing his power, she had somehow turned the clock back to a time when Shao Kahn's physical presence had not been so terrifying, so fearsome. She looked down at the youthful man at her feet and smiled. He was beautiful. He scooted away from her feet. Given what she had already done to him, he had no intention of letting her touch him again. He nearly scooted out of his pants.
Kaiesha grinned, toothily. She glowed with inner power. She was larger than she had been. She looked at the man again. A gesture and he was clothed in leather armor of gleaming black and gold, a draconic helm surmounting his head. "Come. We have much to do, brother."
~*~*~*~
Rayden walked into Zhou Zhin, tired, dirty, hungry and bruised. It wasn't that he couldn't walk, it was just that there was a difference between the tireless stride of a god, and the time consuming travel of a . . . mortal. He cringed inwardly at that word. What was Kung Lao going to say? No, it wasn't Kung Lao who would have much to say. Siro. Taja. And right now, he couldn't say he'd blame them.
He brushed his hair out of his face. It fell back in. He made a face and yanked a length of cloth off the edge of his less than immaculate tunic to tie it back. How did Siro manage? Well, better to get there now, when he still had some strength, than later. He walked to Reyland Imports and stopped outside the door. He knocked. He wondered who would open the -- "Taja," he said with a smile, swayed and basically fell into the astonished thief's arms. He tried to apologize, tried to right himself and passed out.
"Taja . . . who -- is ------ it -------" Siro stared at the dusty, disheveled blue and white clad body in Taja's arms.
He was still staring when Kung Lao came down the stairs. Kung Lao took in the scene, recognized that there was something gravely wrong here and moved to help. Siro shook himself out of his bemused daze and lent a hand to get Rayden to bed. He met Kung Lao's look across the bed as he helped pull the covers over the unconscious god. This did not bode well.
Rayden awoke to darkness. At first he wasn't certain he'd awakened. He blinked. He reached for his power and found it gone. He sat up with a jerk. Fear. He had felt it before, the overwhelming, irrational fear that held him while Shao Kahn had beaten him, taken . . . No. He had faced that once, he would not face it again. Not here. Not now.
Where the hell was here? He had to think for a moment. Of course, the Trading Post. He relaxed slightly. He itched. In several places. He wondered if Kung Lao would oblige his need for a hot bath. He sighed. The door to the room crept open and a wide eyed red head looked in over the candle she was carrying. Rayden gave her a smile. It didn't erase the worry in her blue eyes, but it received an answering curve of her lips.
"Hi. You had us worried."
"I have me worried."
"Huh?"
Rayden sighed. Much as he would love to leave it at that typically cryptic statement, he couldn't. "I've had my powers stolen," he told her.
Taja's lower jaw headed toward the floor. "You what?"
Rayden gave her a resigned look, then laughed softly. Taja looked like she was worried he'd lost his mind. Just what they needed, another crazy god. He understood the look. "It's all right." He frowned. "No, that's not true. I am -- mortal. I suspect it's permanent and I think it would be best to explain it once." His stomach growled, loudly.
Taja chuckled at the look he gave his middle. "Then come down. I'm just finishing up supper for us. You can join us."
"Thank you."
He swung out of bed and swore as his feet touched the ground. His feet hurt. Gingerly, he peeled off his right boot. The bottom of the boot looked worn. The bottoms of his feet were black and blue with bruising. Maybe the direct route hadn't been the best idea. Taja took one look and her intake of breath told its own story. She set the candle down and whirled out of the room before he could stop her.
Moments later, Kung Lao and Siro followed Taja into the room. Rayden had eased back onto the bed and sat swinging his feet and trying not to recognize the potential for real pain if they hit anything. Kung Lao knelt beside the bed and eased off the other boot. Bruising, raw open blisters, Rayden wasn't going anywhere on those feet for a while.
"What happened?" Kung Lao finally asked as he and Taja carefully tended Rayden's wounds.
"I lost a fight."
"You were kicking someone?" Siro inserted. He ignored Kung Lao's frown.
"No. I was -- taking a breath of air and -- I got blindsided."
"By what?" Taja chimed in.
"A -- I'm not sure. She was beautiful and dangerous and deadly and she -- she stole -- she took --" Rayden stopped talking to try to still the tide of shudders that had started shaking him. He had thought Shao Kahn had taken from him all that could be taken, yet this was so much worse. Shao Kahn had beaten him, raped him, taken his dignity, shaken his self confidence, nearly broken him physically and mentally. Yet -- there had been that core of knowledge that as an immortal he could survive unless Shao Kahn deliberately killed him. Now -- now he didn't even have that to fall back on.
Kung Lao, swiftly interpreting the signs of an incipient plunge into despair and terror, took the bereft god in his arms and held him while Taja finished applying ointment to his feet. Rayden's eyes were black pits. He swallowed convulsively and shook. Delayed shock. Kung Lao fell into a rocking rhythm, whispering comfort into the ear of the stiff, trembling form he held. Something must have gotten through. Rayden relaxed, leaning into Kung Lao's hold, hiding his face against the young man's broad shoulder. He reached for Kung Lao and held on until the terror passed.
Siro thought he had seen everything -- well, almost everything. He had been dead and brought back to life. He had seen his world torn asunder to bring him new friends and ways of thinking. He had seen the universe and its interconnections from someplace he had not yet been able to return. He had even managed to quell some of his own hot headed tendencies. But this --
Rayden had not been unscathed when he returned from OutWorld. Yet, clothed in his powers, he had seemed as gods always do to mortals, invincible. Now -- Siro wasn't quite certain what had happened or what would happen, yet a part of him knew that even after Rayden had learned to live as a part of EarthRealm instead of its protector, Siro would be there.
An unfamiliar calm settled in where Siro had so often felt turmoil. Once he had thought protecting Jen was his life's work. Then he had believed training for the next Mortal Kombat and helping Kung Lao were what he had been born to do. This time, he had no words for the certainty he felt, for the rightness of it was all pervading. There was no need for words, only actions. Quietly, he drew Taja away to help him bring food and drink to the man who was joining them.
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