Glancing to the sides of the path, Trygg spotted several sets of yellow eyes peering above the green, murky water. They left spreading wakes of water behind as they swiftly swam towards him. This was the first major of the Eye.
Trygg steeled his mind and prepared the final spell he had mastered, igniting four of the runes from his spear as he whispered the evocation. The four emerald runes rose from the spear and began to spin around it, approaching the spear head, snaking like a green helix. Together, they formed a pulsating sheaf of green lighting that crackled in the air, pushing him to action.
Concentrating on the spell and his target, the alligator, he waited for the proper moment. As it began to move once more, shifting its hefty weight, he saw his chance. Now!
Dashing forward, Trygg stabbed with his spear, aiming between the gator's eyes. Before it could dodge the strike, the cold iron pierced the scales, the green energy of his spell splitting the scales aside like old paper. the spear sunk into the head all the way to first set of runes on the wood shaft, a fatal blow. The gator gave a final hiss as its limbs spasmed and fell still, wisps of smoke rising where the energy had seared the skin beneath. One down, a few more to go, he thought.
Pulling the spear free as the energy sheaf dissipated. He leaped over the alligator's still corpse, taking position in the middle of the path, spotting the swiftly approaching alligators. As the first gator made its way onto land, a behemoth some 14 feet in length, Trygg evoked his fire spell once more, the trio of runes forming into the flaming orb once more. His headache sparked more as he summoned another orb and then a third until three orbs of pure fire hovered in the air.
Thrusting his hand forward, he guided the missiles to bombard the large gator's head. It gave forth a hideous hiss, halting its advance as the flames engulfed its eyes, mouth, and nose. Its scales might be resistant to his flames, but such vulnerable areas could only sustain so much. Trygg followed up his assault, taking advantage of the confusion and pain blinding the monster, steeping in and thrusting his spear at one of its closed eyes. His aim was true and the cold iron sliced into the gator, blood splashing through the flames onto the muddy soil. With a wailing growl, it struggled to slide backwards into the water, to escape the agony and the fire that still danced across its scales.
The other alligator's seeing the fate of the largest, lurked within the waters, hesitant to expose themselves to a similar greeting. As Trygg watched, some of the eyes dipped below the surface, ripples across the surface indicating their stealthy passage away, while some remained, perhaps curious, more likely, waiting. Breathing a sigh of relief, he lowered the spear to rest a moment and endeavored to push the worst of his mental exhaustion to the side. The quick use of spells and his struggle to control them took a toll on his stamina.
After taking a moment to rest, his breathing returning to normal, Trygg prepared to push on, but first he needed to obtain a trophy. The ancestors and the gods looked favorably upon gifts born from victory and triumph, be it a hunt or the great wars. As he stepped to the corpse of the gator, he unsheathed the dagger sheathed in his belt, its gray blade gleaming even in the low light, the viridian gem embedded in its pommel glittering as if lit from within. He bent down and used the curved blade to pry off one of the large scales from the spine of the gator. Having obtained his prize, he cleaned the blade and returned it to its sheath.
Looking around, no archway was within his sight. There must still be trials in store for him within this vast illusion. Trygg walked onwards, keeping a wary eye upon the slitted eyes which gazed upon him with quiet malice. Alongside those, he felt that there was another gazing upon him, something unseen.
Soon enough, the lurking eyes faded into the swamp, replaced once more with familiar buzzing and nuisance of its bugs. Patience, he thought to himself, patience. These irritants were maddening, but they were just another, albeit simple and crude, test. Being quick to anger and frustration would only indicate that he was unworthy of the school. The study of magic and the concentration required to actualize it in the harshest circumstances, even battle, demanded will. He suspected this flaw alone would not be enough for elimination, but exposing oneself was never good.
A ways on, he noticed that the marsh had grown dark, as almost none of the light filtered through the canopy. To either side of the path, he could see dark and bright shapes flitting above the water. Soon, several figures began to approach him as he walked forward.