His firm, brisk steps soon brought him to its end, a great iron gate, its lock and hinges rusted tight under the patient hand of Time. It was high and spiked and too dangerous for climbing. But someone had smashed the lock with a heavy instrument and had applied force until the rusted hinges gave and the gate stood partially open. From the look of the metal, this could have been done recently--even in the past few minutes. * * * * * The man entered and found a flagstone pathway. He followed this for a time with the aid of his flashlight. Then he stopped and raised the beam. It revealed the outline of a great stone mansion, its myriad windows like black, sightless eyes, its silent bulk telling of long solitude, its tongueless voice whispering: _Go away, stranger. Only peril and misfortune await you here._ But I am not exactly a stranger, the man told himself, approaching the door and half hoping to find the scowling panel locked. But it was not locked. The ponderous knob turned under his hand. The panel moved back silently. The man gripped his flashlight and stepped inside. The knowledge that he was no longer alone came as a shock. It was brought to him by the sound of labored breathing and he flashed the light about frantically trying to locate the source of the harsh sound. Then the bright circle picked out a huddled form on the floor nearby. The man moved forward instantly and went to his knees. He was looking into an incredibly ancient face. The skin was so deeply lined as to hang in folds around the sunken eyes. The mouth was but a toothless maw and the body so shrunken as to seem incapable of clinging to life. The voice was a harsh whisper. "Thank God you have come. I am dying. The opening of the gate took all my remaining strength." "You have been waiting for me?" "I have been waiting out the years--striving to keep life in my body until the moment of destiny. I wanted to see _him_. I wanted to be there when the door to his resting place opens and he comes forth to right the terrible wrongs that have been done our people." The strength of the ancient one was ebbing fast. The words he spoke had been an effort. The kneeling man said, "I don't understand all this." "That matters not. It is important only that you keep the bargain made long ago with your sire, and that you are here. Someone must be with _him_ at the awakening." The newcomer again touched the book in his pocket. "I came because our word had been given--" The dying man picked feebly at his sleeve. "Please! You must go below! The great clock has measured the years. Soon it tolls the moment. Soon a thundering on the Plains of Ofrid will herald the new age--the Fighting Age--and a new day will dawn." While the visitor held his frail shoulders, the dying man gasped and said, "Hasten! Hurry to the vault below! Would that I could go with you, but that is not to be."