The soldier said nothing, but straightened as he took a step towards Wolverton. He demeanor was proper and military, but a glint in his dark eyes hinted at his intent.
The aged lord looked the soldier in the eyes. There was something there. He sensed some shared history with the young man before him, a distant familiarity in his face that made Wolverton uneasy. “What is your name?” the older man demanded.
“Malvolio, my lord.”
“Unusual.”
“I named myself-I did not know the name of my mother or father... ”
“Yes, yes, yes. You are a bastard. Fine,” Wolverton said with impatience. “Young Malvolio, do you know what the king means to do to me? Fm to be tried for treason. Treason! After all Fve done for God and country!”
“An outrage, sir, to be sure. But I stand before you with an alternative to King Charles’ gallows.”
The lord bent forward. “You do, eh? Look at me, boy.”
The soldier looked into the lord’s filmy eyes. Wolverton squinted, taking a harder look at the soldier. “How did an orphan rise to rank in my army?”
“I have an aptitude for killing, sir. Like my father,” Malvolio said with a barely concealed smile.
“You told me you didn’t know your father.”
“I didn’t. But according to legend, my father was a cruel man, bereft of mercy and deserving of no fate but damnation.”
“And what legend would this be?”
Malvolio spoke as though reciting by rote, and as he did so his eyes reflected the power of the memory. “Since she gave birth to me, my mother never uttered a word. She lay in bed with her eyes wide open but she could not see, nor did she respond to sound. The legend was that she was found by fishermen in this condition, on the shores of the sea. No one knew where she came from, nor did they know at the time that she was with child. It was believed that she was the victim of horrible, unnatural acts put upon her, acts so terrifying as to put her permanently in her private purgatory. She had fits of fright and would thrash about as if warding off an attacker. I remember as a young boy witnessing her tossing about, her hands like claws scratching the air, her mouth contorted to silent screams, her eyes fixed on her unseen tormentor. I was driven to find the cause of her pain. The only evidence of her past that I had was this... ”
The soldier held open his palm-a small pearl-colored pendant lay in his huge hand.
“I didn’t ask for your history, boy.”
“I beg your indulgence, my lord. It has great bearing on our fates. When I was of age I joined the ranks of your army and, having proven myself in battle, I became an officer. And by chance of having met officers in your regiment, I finally discovered the identity
of my mother. You see, one of them saw this pendant and recognized it.”
Malvolio placed the small pendant in the lord’s trembling hand.
“Open it.”
Something in Malvolio’s voice made the request irresistible.
The lord held up the locket and, fingers trembling, snapped it open. Resting inside was the faded image of a young woman, his long-lost prize from La Rochelle.
“Marie!” he uttered, her memory returning to him in a flood.
The pendant slipped from Wolverton’s trembling hands. Before it hit the ground, Malvolio snatched it from the air. He held the spinning pendant before the old lord, watching it sway from its chain.
“This was my mother, whom you had enslaved and raped and tortured. And I am the product of the misery inflicted upon her by you. And now by the grace of God, I am here to avenge her suffering.”
“You are... my son?”
“Aye, we share the same blood,” Malvolio said. “And I have only one thing to thank you for... the ability to kill without remorse. I’ve come to avenge my mother. And I’ll be damned if I let my vengeance be usurped by King Charles.”
Malvolio’s eyes were blazing with hatred. He placed a hand on the battle-worn pommel of his sword.
Wolverton stepped away from Malvolio, his eyes wide with fear. “Guards!”
Two yeomen stepped forward with the intent to run their pikes through Malvolio’s back. But before they could close, Malvolio unsheathed the sword from the scabbard at his side and quickly-spun and parried them, his blade cutting the air with a vicious whistle. Malvolio spun back and with a mighty swing decapitated one guard. And before the unfortunate soldier’s body hit the ground, his compatriot was dead as well, the sword run through his ribs, piercing his heart and severing his spine.
Malvolio turned back to Wolverton, who was falling backwards over his calfskin chair. Wolverton stared into Malvolio’s eyes. The aging lord stumbled backwards.
“You’re mad... ” Wolverton stammered.
The soldier stood upright, muscles rippling under the uniform. A jackal’s grin broke across his face, the blood of the soldiers dripping from the gleaming blade of the sword.
“I’m Malvolio.”
He lifted the sword in the air, then bringing it down diagonally with a whistling fury, he cleaved Lord Wolverton’s head, neck, right shoulder and arm from the rest of his body. The lower portion of the body flopped back in the worn calfskin chair, fountains of blood pulsing from the severed arteries. The upper portion of Wolverton’s body slid to the floor, washing the king’s proclamation in spurts of rich red blood.
The dank cell was no worse than a thousand places Malvolio had bedded, and he was content to await his execution. He could hear other condemned men moving in shackles about the courtyard, along with the noisy shuffling of the bold rats with whom he shared his space. Having killed so many, he was comfortable with the trappings of death. Even his own.
The scuttling of the rats became suddenly frantic as an unnatural green glow bathed the uneven rock walls. Malvolio was forced to avert his eyes from the brilliant emerald light emanating before him.
“What manner of sorcery is this?” he demanded of no one. Malvolio rose to his feet.
The light diminished and Malvolio’s eyes opened wide at the sight before him in the small cell of a huge figure that seemed to emerge from nowhere. The being’s skin was an unearthly shade of blue, the eyes cold and intelligent. His huge frame was much like Malvolio’s own, but despite his formidable bearing this being appeared worn and weary, like a traveler far from home.
Malvolio stared at the man-creature before him. He saw that the green light pulsed from a large ring on the being’s hand. He could not move toward or away from the being because of the shackles cutting into his wrists and ankles.
“Who are you?” Malvolio demanded of the strange being.
No reply was offered.
“Fine. Hold your tongue then,” Malvolio hissed with contempt. “A condemned man on the eve of his death cannot be tormented. My peace has been made.”
“With whom?” the being asked in a voice as hollow as a tomb.
“What, are you a priest? If so, save your talk of God and heaven for others. I’ve no time or tolerance for such foolishness.”
“I have come to set you free.”
Malvolio laughed. He held out his shackled hands. “Then you are most welcome, my friend. Do your best. Rescue me.”
The being stepped towards Malvolio and took his hands in his.
Malvolio was amazed to see his huge hands made to seem small by the strange being’s. It gripped the shackle on Malvolio’s left wrist and bent it back until the iron bolt sheared off. Then he did the same to the right shackle and Malvolio’s hands were free.
Rubbing his wrists, he looked at the being with new regard. “I ask again—who are you?”
“It does not matter,” it told him. “You cannot be made to understand. But I could not stand by to see your life wasted.”
“And why is that?”
“You are a product of a desperate and unnecessary gesture of my vanity.”
Malvolio sat back down. “Do tell.”
“I discovered your mother, pregnant and half-drowned in the river, I myself was near
death, having been hunted by forces incomprehensible to you. We were thrown together by pure chance. I was in a running battle with these dark forces, a fight that spanned the galaxy. In my bid to escape annihilation I came upon this planet and this lone human on the shores of the sea. I was dying as I came upon her, and her unborn child was the only being that would be able to sustain my life force. As an act of desperation I implanted much of my power within her.”
Malvolio stirred at this news and studied the being intently. “You... are saying... you made me?”
The weary traveler continued. “I planted this power in you. I expected to perish but fate had me survive. So the act was ultimately futile.”
“Futile? It was not futile to me, nor to my mother,” Malvolio said icily.
“It was wrong for me to do this to the poor creature. The shock destroyed her mind. My madness in implanting my genetic code within you led to her madness. And for that I’m eternally sorry.” “Then what am I?”
“You have my genetic history trapped within your human code. The mixture is... unbalanced.”
Malvolio cocked his head to one side, contemplating the implications. “You speak in terms I’ve not heard before. But if I understand you correctly, you and I share the same blood.”
“Yes. You’ve inherited my strength but none of the knowledge to utilize it wisely. And the two natures are now warring within you.”
Malvolio smiled. It was insane, but at the same time it made perfect sense to him. “This explains a great deal,” he said slowly.
“The time has come for us to become one. Together we will harness your great power, and when your education is complete, I will give you this... ”
The being removed the green ring from his finger and held it for Malvolio to see. Malvolio touched it, marveling at the power he could feel pulsating from it. The being offered it to Malvolio,
He took the ring and placed it on his finger. “Am I to partake of its magic?”
“In time. When you have learned how to harness it.”
“And what if I choose not to return?”
“Then I must leave you here to perish.”
Malvolio stepped forward and looked at the being. Something that may have been love, understanding or recognition flashed between them. Malvolio embraced the being that was responsible
for both his strength and his madness. As he did so, he saw that the ring began to glow. The power surged into him. Malvolio whispered in the Green Lantern’s ear.
“I can never forgive you for my mother’s misery,” he said.
“I understand that it is your nature,” said the being who in essence was Malvolio’s true father. “But I can give you the ability to forgive.” “I’m not interested in forgiveness. My place is here, and here is where I will stay.”
The being looked at Malvolio with sadness, and nodded. “So be it.”
Malvolio looked into his father’s eyes. “Yes. So be it.”
Malvolio hugged his alien father tighter, the ring glowing as it fed him power. The being struggled but Malvolio’s grasp was deadly tight, and he held him until he could hear the being’s spine and ribs breaking, splintering under the murderous strength being fed to him by the ring. Finally, the being could breathe no longer. His heart and lungs stopped, crushed to a stillness by the lethal compression of tissue, bones and muscle surrounding it.
Malvolio let the dead being fall heavily to the floor. He admired the ring and the blessing of its power. He had long had ambitions. And now, at last, he possessed the power to make them reality.
Lord Malvolio sat astride his steed, watching the glorious pageant of violence being played out on the fields before him. From his vantage on the gentle slope of the hill, he watched his forces, The Army of the Green Light, routing the king’s army, the panicked soldiers fleeing as Malvolio’s men swarmed over them. As the king’s army fled the field, Malvolio contemplated his next step.
This battle was the climax of Malvolio’s two-year campaign to defeat the king’s army. With his newfound power, he had escaped prison and immediately began to wage his own war for control of England. The Parliamentarians and Royalists had united, at least temporarily, against him, but Malvolio knew that they were ultimately powerless to stop his swath of destruction.
So, too, the king’s army, which had degenerated into a panicked, fleeing mob. Malvolio watched with pleasure at their flight from his army and dark magic.
Then, to the surprise of Malvolio and his officers, a large contingent of cavalry arrived, galloping over the hummock towards the retreating forces and Malvolio’s pursuing army. The king’s forces paused, then stopped running, as if emboldened to regroup by the sight of their reinforcements.
Malvolio recognized the charging cavalry as an elite regiment of the king’s guards. Their appearance on this field of battle so strategically close to London was, Malvolio knew, the last stand of the desperate ruler. With the destruction of the king’s guards, London would be an open city and the kingdom would be his. He grinned in delight and held his bare fist high, the ring glowing.
An unseen wind flowed from the ring, a fantastic wave of con-cussive force. It slapped down trees and rippled the grass as it traveled at incredible speed towards the hundreds of charging mounted soldiers. Malvolio’s officers watched in awe as the force collided with the cavalry like a great wave striking the bow of a ship. The wave tore through the cavalry, knocking down the horses as if they were made of straw. Animals and men fell in a tumult of bodies. The concussive force killed most of them outright, tearing
flesh and crushing bone. The few survivors lay dazed by shock, most deaf and blind, blood weeping from eyes, ears, and nostrils.
A great cheer erupted from Malvolio’s army. Victory was theirs. His forces, made up of criminals and soldiers-of-fortune, were eager to follow this new leader. It was the finest campaign they’d ever had the pleasure of waging. Lord Malvolio’s magic usually destroyed the enemy’s forces from afar, leaving his men little to do but hunt down and dispatch the survivors. Within weeks, word of his terrible powers swept through England, and the enemy often ran at the sight of Malvolio’s colors.
Malvolio, triumphant, raised his fist in the air. A single beam of green light shot from his ring straight into the twilight sky. Malvolio’s men recognized this signal and charged forward, ready to destroy the last defense between them and London. Soon, all of England would belong to Malvolio’s Army of the Green Light.
Malvolio spurred his steed into a gallop, heading directly toward the king’s colors. They would be the crowning glory to his collection of souvenirs of the vanquished. Within seconds he was riding amidst the destroyed cavalry, trampling the dead and survivors as he rode for the prized pennant.
Suddenly his horse reared up, nearly throwing him. Cursing, he steadied the beast and searched for the source of his mount’s fright.
Before him stood a little man who had appeared from nowhere, a strange creature with bald head, large eyes and pale skin. This tiny man stood scowling at Malvolio. The warrior unsheathed his sword and raised it, ready to cleave the man in half. But something he saw froze his action.
The stranger had a ring on his finger, the same green ring as his own.
“Malvolio. Your reign is no more,” the little man said. Something in the certainty of his tone told Malvolio that the creature possessed the power to make true his declaration. He steadied his horse as he said, “For that to be true, it will need to be taken from me.”
“You are not a true Green Lantern, and not deserving of the power of the ring,” the man said, as through explaining a complex idea to a simpleton. His tone infuriated Malvolio.
“The power of the magic that I wield is infinite!” Malvolio warned. “You do not understand. The ring has limitations put upon it to keep its power in check. You were never made aware of those limitations and your unchecked usage of the ring’s power, ignoring its impurities and instabilities, has caused great damage to the fabric of the universe,” the
man said. “The power you have unleashed so carelessly has caused a rippling chain of destruction throughout space. Your continued abuse of this power will lead to ultimate obliteration of all that exists. That is why I am here.”
Malvolio did not understand what the creature was telling him, nor was he interested. This odd-speaking gnome would not stop him, ring or not. Malvolio raised his hand towards the creature and prepared to blast him from the Earth. The wave of energy flashed from the ring like lightning...
... and Malvolio found himself in darkness. Confused, he looked around. There was no field of battle, no army, nothing but empty, infinite space. Looking down, he saw that he was floating, as if the night sky had wrapped completely around him.
Before him floated the little man, looking grim and judgmental. Malvolio cried out in fear and rage.
“Where am I?” he demanded.
“You are in space, in a place unknown by the power of the ring. Because of your usage of the ring’s power, I cannot allow you to stay on Earth. You’ll remain here, guarded by those,” the little man said, pointing to a series of floating, round metallic orbs emanating auras of energy. Malvolio saw that they formed a huge sphere around him, with him floating at its center.
“Those warning buoys will contain you within this area and warn any travelers to stay clear of you.”
“I am imprisoned?” asked Malvolio in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Forever.”
CHAPTER
3
Ten Miles West of Ward, Colorado, 1939 The sun pounded down on Alan Scott’s face, stabbing at his pupils, forcing him to squint and blink from its sharpness. Even when he squeezed his eyes shut again, he could feel the sunlight pressing into him like an accusation.
Worse yet, he could not turn away from it. In fact, he could not move at all, and the more he struggled, the more the fear welled up in him and the more frantic he became. His breathing coming quickly, he forced himself to concentrate on the merciless Sun until the panic slowly subsided. And as he gained control of his mind, he set about determining why he didn’t have control of his body.
Green Lantern - Sleepers Book 2 Page 2