Olympus: It's Not Just a Game

Chapter 32

Nancy gasped. Could this be that Mr. Morrison who had written Olympus? What was he doing here?

Wheeler bounced back faster than Nancy did. "Father," he cried, "I have come to warn Lord Peter of his impending doom. He laughs at my warning. Perhaps he will listen to yours!"

Mr. Morrison's face was still going through some surprising contortions. "Simon," he burbled. "How did you...when did you...." He broke off. "Nice legs," he concluded, lamely.

Lord Peter coughed, dryly. "So good to see you again, ReMora, and what a surprise to discover this horsey chap is your son. Now, I hate to interrupt this combination wizard's convention and family reunion," he said, "but I've already heard about the dreadful danger and all that and it's getting rather tedious. If you magical types wouldn't mind popping off now, I'll get about the humdrum task of saving my city from the nasty Spartans."

"Not just the city!" the wizard exploded. "All of Olympus hangs in the balance. She must not fall into the hands of the Spartans, or this whole world may totter into the abyss!"

"That's hardly my problem," Lord Peter sniffed. "They won't take this city without taking me out first (which, incidentally, won't happen), so I wouldn't be sticking around for the jolly old abyss, don't you know." He looked down his long nose. "Although this talk about the end of Olympus has piqued my curiosity."

"The end is near!" cried Wheeler. "Save yourself from the gathering disaster!"

"At the very least, let me help you save yourself and your city," urged the wizard.

"They have no power against my spells!"

"Oh, really?" Lord Peter raised one eyebrow. "Just what did you have in mind?"

The wizard shot a proud glance at the aristocrat. "I am the maker of monsters," he answered. "Behold!" He gestured, and muttered an evil-sounding incantation. An enormous cobra materialized in the middle of the throne room. Its hood reared a good six feet above the marble floor, and there was death in its sinister eyes.

"Tut, tut, that won't do," said Lord Peter. He deftly flicked out his rapier and decapitated the snake. Its head skittered across the floor, and its gruesome body writhed in death. "Can't have those things cluttering up the palace."

"I can do worse than that!" bellowed the angry wizard. "I can conjure up the sea serpent from the depths!"

"Oh, really!" Now Lord Peter looked hard at him. "Was that you who did that? Well, you're one sea serpent short, if you hadn't noticed. This same blade—" he glanced down at the scarlet blood on the glittering diamond, and wiped it on a silken cushion, "—this blade that shortened your little friend here made short shrift of that overgrown eel you call a sea serpent. And, if you don't mind, it has its quota of Spartans to attend to." He stepped to the door and waved in a couple of soldiers. "You," he said, "and you. Come in here and guard these two—guests. And try not to let them turn our prisoner into a lizard or anything loathsome."

He strode out of the room.

The two young officers stepped nervously into the throne room, crossed spears, and barred the door. Lord Peter stepped briskly away, closing the door behind them. "Don't try anything," squeaked the younger, more pimply soldier.

"Right," agreed his older comrade. "You're under arrest!"

"Under arrest?" scoffed the wizard. "How are you going to arrest me?" He waved his arms and muttered vile-sounding words. The spear clattered to the floor and the younger officer vanished. In its place sat a very surprised-looking tortoise.