"Now by her who sits at Flomos," said Oleric to Polaris, as they sat their horses on a hillside and looked across the plains to where the gold and blue standards fluttered, "here will be a battle worth the waiting of all my years." Somewhat worn with anxiety was the face of the son of the snows; but his eyes were bright and his strength was unimpaired. He, too, was ready. "Shall we not strike at the nearest point of the river?" he asked, pointing to the west of Bel-Ar's camp. "If we gain the bank of the stream, it will shorten our front, and it seems that we shall not easily be flanked." Oleric swore that the plan was good, and Ruthar's army began to fight its way across the plain. It could scarcely be said that battle was beginning. All the way through the forests had been one long, unending struggle with Fanaer. Already on the plains cavalry skirmishes were in progress. Now was to come the climax of a month of conflict. Steadily Ruthar pressed on, and with the fall of night pitched her tents on the plain, her left wing resting on the river below the Maeronican camp. By common consent, the fighting ceased at dusk and the armies rested on their arms. The next day would tell the tale, and they were content to await it. Such was the contour of the land that there was little ground for strategy and juggling of men. This was to be a battle, front to front, with victory to the strongest arms. And though their force was the greater, there was much of doubt in the hearts of the men of Ad. Tales had been brought in of the prowess of these mountain warriors. Other camp gossip had put uneasiness upon the soldiers of Bel-Ar. How, for instance, had the Kimbrian Wall been sundered, if it were not the work of the gods? And the beasts, the mighty red beasts, against which men were as flies. Rumor had told that they had come into Maeronica and would fight in the field against Adlaz. The sun set that night in a sea of fire. Men did not know how to interpret that omen. Was Shamar angered? And if he was, on whose heads would his blows fall on the morrow? The stars shone calm and clear. Ruthar worshiped the stars. Those and other thoughts caused many a stout Maeronican to shake his head over his campfire. But most of all they feared the beasts. * * * * * Wary Oleric had kept Zoar and his herd well to the rear. Never in the march had the amalocs gone forward until the way had been cleared. None of the Maeronican fighting men had set eyes on them. The beasts were Ruthar's strongest hope. If even the thought of them struck terror into the hearts of the Children of Ad, Oleric reasoned that their sudden appearance in battle might be counted upon to produce a panic.