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Chapter 2 - The Eye's Trial

The past hour of walking through the swamp felt like it did little to test Trygg, except his patience from the smell and the bugs. Each bend of the path felt similar to the last, the trees blocking the sky with their omnipresent coverage, the water's stagnation, and the constant harrying by the airborne pests. He had tried once more to erect his ward, but once more it failed, cementing his headache and leaving a scorch mark on his coat and a nearby tree. He could endure the nuisances, but not happily.

Trygg knew the trial was designed to test the entirety of the examinees, even without direct application of magic, the actions and the behavior within the Eye's illusion would allow it to read the potential within. He couldn't be sure, but he felt that the swamp was growing darker, perhaps the passing of the day, but perhaps foreboding something greater. His father's spear reassured him, its wooden length of 5-feet, every foot engraved with runes of power, to aid in the casting of spells. Topped with a triangular point forged with strongest black iron from the mines of Mount Kyros, it had withstood the test of time in the hands his father and grand-father. Now its weight rested on him, reassuring him of his path and his duty.

As the light dimmed, Trygg grew wary, the trial was said to push people to the limit, for at that point, it was easiest to discern the value of a student, not only raw magic potential, but also their character and will. Even if someone held great potential, the Academy might still turn them away should they exhibit cowardice or other vices. Such rejects could find other sources of learning in Kyrgard, even under Jarl Kryn the Second himself, but they would not be eligible for the Mage Academy, where such weakness was crippling to a combat mage and those who bear tremendous responsibility.

Hearing a rippling movement nearby, Trygg spun around, searching for the source. With h as a moment to spare, he spotted two yellow, slitted eyes peering from the waters as they suddenly lunged towards him. Trygg hopped backwards along the path, spear at the ready, as a plume of water erupted and a large alligator heaved its bulk, easily bigger than Trygg, towards him, toothy maw agape, releasing a hideous hissing growl. Thinking quickly, he slipped his left hand along the spear, paused on two runes and then stopped on a third. He pushed back the continual headache, and called forth the three runes. With a green spark, the spear produced three green runes which quickly moved forward and hovered between him and the alligator in the shape of a triangle.

The alligator looked wary as it beheld the runes, perhaps familiar with the tricks and magics of the world. With a bit of a concentration, Trygg felt a flush of success as the runes began to rotate with great speed. Soon, they touched, coalescing into a green ring and then combining into an orb of flickering fire the size of his fist. With a thought, he threw the orb forward, its flames impacting the top of the alligator and splashing along its scales, and vaporizing the water still upon it. The steam and stench of burned keratin curled into the air as the flames danced along its scales.

Hissing in pain, the alligator charged towards Trygg, deceptively quick for its appearance and size. With a lunge, it tried to bite Trygg's leg, which would surely break bones with its powerful jaws. Another quick dodge backwards and he threw a light stab at the alligator's head, shearing through one of its scales and feeling a slight give as he pierced the gator's skin, however shallow.

Thrashing its head, the flames that had scorched its back had soon faded, roasting the scales, but inflicting little hurt below its skin. Taking another step back, he felt the ground give way and with a quick glance back, saw the water was close behind him. He dared not face an alligator in water of unknown depth, it would make his greatest weapons useless and provide it with even more angles of attack. Watching the gator, it stared back with its unnerving, intelligent reptilian eyes, a single trail of blood running from the scale he pierced behind its right eye.

Trygg calmed his hammering heart, breathing deeply as he planned his next move. A soft breeze ruffled his brown hair, but then he grew cold. He heard the swift movement of water coming from the swamp once more.