The shadow underneath the ship didn’t surface, but another shock rippled through the ship. This time, Malysseus could hear the ship’s boards groaning under the impact. He remained on his feet, casting an earth spell that locked his feet to whatever they touched. Conceptually, it wasn’t all that different from the suction cups on squidling feet.

“You’ve really upset him,” Uro-squidling said. “I don’t think he likes the sound of your voice.”

Malysseus wasn’t in the mood for talking anymore, anyway. He took action instead. Summoning a spell made entirely from a ball of wind magic, he tossed the spell straight into the squidling’s stomach. The squidling was knocked back but used its feet to prevent being thrown overboard.

Something caught Malysseus around the leg. He couldn’t help himself—his attention was drawn to seeing what held him. A small tentacle, erupting directly from the ship’s planks, held him around the ankle. Muttering angrily under his breath, he readied an earth spell to summon a small stone hand. The hand could rip the tentacle away from his ankle.

He lost focus on the spell while his attention was on the tentacle. The squidling used the opportunity to close the distance between them, punching Malysseus in the stomach. He groaned from the impact. He had experienced much worse pain, but the embarrassment of being so easily outplayed was a punishment of its own.

Instead, he froze the tentacle with an ice spell, stepping back with his freed leg. Two more of the strange tentacles appeared in thin air beside Malysseus. He cursed loudly, stepping further back to avoid his arms being caught by the floating appendages. The reason this squidling could have such a stable illusion was now apparent to him. It was a Wizard.

It was a good thing for Malysseus to learn. Although fighting against another Wizard was unfortunate in some respects, he knew the duel would be a battle of magic. Focusing his magical sight as he continued his tactical retreat, Malysseus saw the tentacles were draining large quantities of Mana from his opponent. In a battle of attrition, he would definitely come out the victor. But he didn’t want a war of attrition when the ship was under siege. A third shock rocked the vessel, sending an earthquake through the wooden boards.

He decided to attempt one of his favorite tricks for Wizard duels. First, he summoned a small fire bead, tossing it through the air. Then, he sent a streak of wind blowing from the other side. Next, he blasted several chunks of ice straight through the air. Included in the batch of ice was a single, razor-sharp chunk of crystal. Finally, he discharged an avalanche of pebbles from his outstretched hands. The spells were fired quickly—but at varying speeds—so they landed near the same moment.

The squidling swatted away the attacks using a summoned tentacle that rapidly whipped through the air. The entire pebble avalanche was reduced to dust. The wind was irrelevant to the squidling so long as the creature used its suction cups to remain steady. It ignored the fire and ice entirely, which was ultimately its downfall.

Any Wizard, when attacks were thrown together that quickly, would assume they were weak spells cobbled together as a distraction. One of Malysseus’s favored tactics was a distraction to sneak in a lethal attack. The chunk of crystal caught the squidling in the chest, finally ending the illusion. The face of Uro morphed into the visage of a squidling with a squid head made of coarse green skin instead of a typical squid color.

The suction cups on its feet kept the creature standing, even thoroughly defeated. Malysseus removed the squidling, pulling it firmly off the deck. With a satisfied grunt, he hefted the squidling over his shoulder, brought it to the railing, and tossed the sucker overboard.

A fourth shake rocked the boat, but this one was different. Malysseus heard the cracking of boards. The ship suffered real damage from the attack. Even worse, the creature showed its hand, parts of it appearing for the first time. A giant tentacle shot from the water, wrapping around the boat.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

It was—as Malysseus feared—a Kraken.

The enormous tentacle squeezed, and he heard the boards groaning as the ship tried to stay in one piece. Calling upon more of his magic, he used an earth spell to reinforce the structural integrity of the boards, making them as strong as steel. The groaning resolved to a squeaking sound, and finally, the tentacle released the ship.

Malysseus, now free to act, went to the ship’s wheel. He focused his energy, gathering a steady stream of wind magic, and pushed the wind directly into the sails. He focused on maintaining a steady stream of Mana, ensuring the wind would not become too powerful. As much as he needed to conserve Mana, the situation would become truly dire if he ripped the sails apart.

As he continued to work, he saw the creature’s shadow falling slightly behind the ship. The trapdoor flung open and the entire crew finally filtered above the deck. The crew saw their Captain—whom they envisioned to be a perfectly normal, but a tad audacious, Captain—blasting wind magic into the sails. That secret was out.

“Battle stations, men!” Malysseus called out, breaking their rapt attention and sending people scurrying over the deck. “We’ve got a Kraken to kill.”

As they did their work, the crew’s voices became dull chatter again.

“Did he say Kraken?”

“Did he say kill?”

“You did see him throwing wind with his bare hands, right? I’m not crazy. Right?”

“Did anyone see where Uro went? He’s not watching the bow.”

Malysseus cringed at the last query. The actual Uro was—in all likelihood—currently at the bottom of the ocean. He wasn’t coming back. The crew was in a situation, and it wasn’t the time to explain the expedition had finally claimed its first victim.

He continued his steady stream of wind magic, which pushed the ship at increasing speeds. With a smirk, he started feeling bold enough to think the crew was in the clear. He was planning when to have a celebratory smoke when the whole ship was rocked by another spasm. The Kraken had caught up.

To make matters worse, one of the crew members returned from his post in the hold. “Captain, captain,” he said, “the ship has been breached. We’re taking on water! What do I do?”

Malysseus gritted his teeth, knowing he wouldn’t have a moment’s peace until the crew found land.

“I’ll take care of it as soon as we lose this thing.”

He pushed more Mana into the sails, sending the ship careening forward. Unfortunately, the Kraken decided it didn’t want to allow the crew of Opportunity the chance to make their escape. Tentacles wrapped around the ship, making it difficult to find standing room. The vessel could be moving at the speed of light. Speed didn’t matter if the Kraken was attached to the ship.

Malysseus dropped his concentration on the wind stream and turned his attention to the threat of the giant tentacles. He pulled Mana from his channels. He wasn’t gentle about it. His focus was clear, his intention was concrete, and he’d successfully used the magic before multiple times.

For the first time, Malysseus willfully called to lightning magic that was under his total control. Using the very same crystal tendrils he originally summoned, he charged them with lightning. The hot energy buzzed through the crystal strands, control over crystal granting him high-level direction control. Threads of lightning-charged crystal snaked their way to multiple tentacles throughout the ship in unison.

The tentacles held against the lightning. The spell was clearly destructive, but the mass of the Kraken didn’t fear the electricity. Malysseus pushed more Mana into the greedy spell. He summoned more crystal threads, charging them and sending them into the fray. More Mana. Finally—just before he was spent—the Kraken’s will broke.

The giant creature was certainly not dead, but it was defeated. The tentacles released the ship, ripping the crystal threads to shreds. The loss of the creature’s enormous bulk allowed the boat to move freely again, coasting on excess power from the wind stream. The shadow was left behind as the ship sailed on until the sunlight blotted the shadow out.

“Captain, sir. Sorry, sir,” a shy sailor named Jamie said, “What are we going to do about the broken planks in the hold? Can you magic it all back together? You’re a Wizard, Captain!” He said the last part as if it had somehow escaped Malysseus’s notice that he had magic powers.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Malysseus replied. “Speaking of broken planks, where are Kewari and Gurten?” Looking around, he didn’t see either of them on the ship’s deck.

“Bailing water out the port holes. Why didn’t we use the cannons on the Kraken, sir?”

Malysseus chuckled, looking forward to seeing Gurten and Kewari bailing water like maniacs. “Because, Jamie,” the Captain said earnestly, “you never use a cannon on a Kraken.”

Jamie was watching Malysseus in awe, even though Malysseus had no idea if cannons were effective on Kraken. Malysseus was a Wizard. Wizards did magic. Everyone knew you didn’t bring a cannon to a Wizard fight.

That’s when the crew saw land. “Land, ho!” Marcus shouted from the bow.

Malysseus had no idea if the Kraken released them because of the lightning or the shallow waters near the island.

But there was land.