And the king's son came in his wrath and smote them. Terrible was he in battle, shod in fire and fury, rallying the vanquished with his might.
I had never believed it. But I was startled and must have shown it, for into Slagoon's eyes came a look of mocking triumph.
"Gru Huhu Frum," he said. "I followed you when you left the village. I watched you making magic on the hill."
"It was not magic, son of Geipgos," I said. "I was talking to the mountain. Would you doubt the word of a guest?"
"I would doubt the word of a guest who does not speak the truth."
There was no need for further speech between us.
I measured him with my eyes, the length and breadth and thickness of him. He had kept himself in fine physical trim, despite the demon of hunger which must have dogged his footsteps night and day. A lean panther is more dangerous than a well-fed one; a man with gaunt cheeks and protruding ribs a treacherous adversary if his muscles have retained their resiliency, and the will to wrestle and slay is strong in him.
He had five hands to my two. He was armed and I was weaponless and his weapon was a cruel one, a curving blade with a bone handle, ground to a deadly sharpness.
When you're girding for a life-and-death struggle it's best to whittle your adversary down to size. I told myself that I was a civilized man with a resolution he could never hope to match. He would fight like a savage, granted. But I was sure that two hands guided by a trained intelligence could grip and hold, twist and bend twice as well as five hands animated by a blind urge to kill.
I squared my shoulders and started walking straight toward him. I was encouraged by the way he returned my stare, as if the look of confidence in my eyes had planted a sudden, disturbing doubt in his mind. It was enough to assure me that if I kept my head and closed in relentlessly my chances would be good.