Question Upon Question
J
ohn Pride opened his as a his lips. The and he himself upon a looking up into the of the man. "What happened?" John Pride asked feebly. He to refocus.
"I don't know that the of that fire was upon us with such that we were almost incapacitated. I you up and started walking. Fortunately I moved in the direction of the door. Otherwise we would have been doomed."
"I am in your debt."
"No more so than I in yours."
"Did you the fire?"
"It out of its own accord. But only after the was gutted. There is nothing left in there but the walls."
John Pride sat up with quick concern. "The book!"
"It is gone." The man looked at his own body. "Gone—together with my robe."
"That can easily be replaced along with other but the book—I was to deliver it—"
"—to the cavern. You did that, my friend. It was not through you that the fire it. You have your obligation. Let your mind be at ease."
John Pride got to his feet. He his in the negative. "No. A of my still exists. Fortunately I did not the second and last item I was to place in the cavern."
"The second item?"
"Yes, and I the most important."
With that, Pride took from his pocket a small box in material and sealed and with a of wax.
"This," he said. "I know not what is in the box I think, did my father, my grandfather, my great me. We have been to that its to the was the most single of the trust. So I now place it in your hands, praying that this act the long-standing of my family."
The man had a of his robe, a length of material that over his and the of his body. This did nothing in the way of his but and added to it.
He took the box and was it with great when the and action of the minutes again took upon John Pride's less physique.
His closed and he again to the the man the box in the pocket that had not away from his and John Pride in his arms.
He the man and him up from the and into the great that to the main entrance. As he walked, the as though it were but a feather, he was of two minds.
One mind for his new-found friend and the other was with in these new and surroundings.
Dawn had over the and in a light the great hall, he saw the of the man on the floor. He paused for a moment and then out across the and into the open air.
He at the green of that in about him. He in of the air and it good. He smiled.
Then John Pride in his arms and of returning consciousness. The man the on the soft and until his opened.
"Are you better? Is there anything I can do?"
John Pride as he himself with the man's aid. "I'm this has been more than I for. If I'd what would I would have myself in condition."
"But you now?"
"Yes. If you will be so good as to help me to my car, I'll be all right."
"Certainly. Your car—?"
"A means of that will take me to the city. It but a yards the road the gate."
A time later, the two men at the place that was to be the of their ways. Both this and Pride out his hand. The man it firmly.
"Godspeed to you, my friend," John Pride said. "I I can help you no but if there is a time when my services are needed, I will be waiting for your command."
"Thank you. Whatever me I will always you as the friend I set upon in this world."
With that, John Pride his car and off the road. As he left, the man the older man had said nothing of the in the great but it was of the Pride had suffered. The man was still from the of the fire.
He and walked slowly toward the until he again in the great yard. There he stopped and looking up at the sun as it the hill east of the mansion.
"Who am I?" he asked himself. "Why was I knowledge but not all the knowledge necessary to my destiny? In my there is a that I am an man. I am aware of the that there are different groups of people who speak different and I know I will be able to with any I meet.
"I know that there are and and and I know what is to be of the universe. But where is the exact personal knowledge that would help me in my with the future? Why was I left here and provided for these hundred years only to be upon my own?"
He walked slowly into the great and the still on the floor. A of him but there was no of recognition, no personal as a result of the ancient's death.
"Have I you before?" he asked softly. "Were you—Portox?"
The one did not answer and the man him and took him from the and him. He no to the but a that had once been a well. He the and it with until the was filled. He did this with no of but with an he but not analyze.
The had a symbol in Bram's
mind. The had a symbol in Bram's mind.
Returning slowly to the yard, he the of time. How, he wondered, John Pride's line have gone through three to John Pride, the last of the males, while he himself for one hundred years to in his prime? Or on the near of his prime.
He this and other points until his mind from questions and to of the moment.
"I know not what my is but at least I am able to have a name. What shall it be?"
He the one Portox had used—C. D. Bram. "Bram," he said. "That I like." But the C. D. meant nothing to him and Bram somehow incomplete.
"John Price had a name of two parts," he said, "so why should I not have the same?"
He looked about him and a in the green above to the answer. He and considered, then to himself, his voice.
"I myself Bram Forest, to be from this moment on by that name."
Suddenly his deepened, then from his great chest; a from the of this new thing called into which he had stepped.
Now he his arms over his head, as though to some far-off deity. He high in the air his and them good.
Then he was running, and off across the open hill. He ran until his with pain as his for air. Finally he to the ground and spread-eagled looking up at the sky.
He laughed long and joyously.
He for a long time thus, then the box John Pride had him. But the had from his so he to his and ran until he it.
The box was still there. He it it over and over in his hands. The seal was but it gave and he off the wrapping. A small white box came to light.
This he opened to at what it contained. An odd of some sort—a about two in and possibly a of an thick. Both were of shining, metal anything that was upon them.
Two metal from opposite of the instrument, one of which a at its end. He the to his ear but there was no that he detect.
Frustrated he looked again into the box. It appeared to be empty. But no. As he was about to it away, he noted that what appeared to be its was in a second that perfectly into the receptacle. He it free and it to be a in white paper.
He was about to the paper with his when his attention to the disc. He had a use for it; or at least a place for which it constructed.
He his and the fit and perfectly around his wrist. He which to place it on and the right one would be appropriate. Quickly, he the into its and then his arm to the of the device.
If he had anything to happen, he was and he there what use was to be from such a device.
After a while he the and moved it to his left wrist. Perhaps it would look there. Again he his arm to it and had thus for some moments when he of an odd in the of his stomach.
He did not this with the at all and the thing, his whole attention to the that had come upon him.
The in and he down, over his as the a pain. As he to his knees, he noted the had changed, had taken on an odd, glow.
There had to be a his and the device and he at the buckle, to it and the thing away.
But there was no time. The pain and a black cloud his sight. He at the and then his weakened, away from it.
The and to him from the ground upon which he lay. It at his throat, entered his like a force.
As his a single was in his mind: Born but to live a moments and die again. What is there to such a as this? Born—but—to die—again. Portox! Help me! It can't be—There must be some help!
