In the strong twilight1 over the Mountains of Wales, draining of light League upon League of darkly forested Peaks...to the eye familiar, the occasional interruption of a Cabin or Plantation2...chimney Smoke, a gray patch of girdl'd Trees amid the green pervading3...a Shade ascend4?ing one hollow at a time, the wind acquires at the Dark a potency5 it did not possess in the light. An ax-bit's blow quench'd in living wood. A dog after a Squirrel. A percussive6 "Sandwich" of hammer, anvil7, and the Work between. Night over all this watershed8 how vast, that covers each soul in it like a breathing Mouth, humid, warm, carrying the odors of liv?ing and dying, that takes back ev'rything committed upon the Land that Day, without appeal, dissolving all in Shadow.
They have caught up with this era in the settlement of this West. Though not in all ways insane, yet Capt. Shelby, avid9 for any occasion to quarrel, exhibits signs of mania10 upon the topic of Land-Disputes, being often preoccupied11 from well before sun-up till far into the early Dark?nesses with litigations great and petty, engrossments Ditto, with Bound?ary issues a particular Passion,— a fallen Tree, a wand'ring Chicken, the meanders12 of a Stream, any pretext13, any least scent14 of Inconvenience, will do. He admires this West Line for its great Size, tho' he's puzzl'd as to why there can't be a few angles someplace, to accommodate a close friend, for example,— or even more than one.
"Kings," Mason with a what-can-we-poor-Sheep-do look, which Shelby declines to join him in. "This is how they reason, in Map-siz'd sweeps of the Arm. 'Divide it thus, I command you!' They can't be both-er'd with the fine details."
"Having ink'd a Map or two, I know that impatience15, tho' my Sympa?thy reaches no further. Out here the King has few to count upon, and his troops will be fools, to come much past Cumberland,— you be certain to tell 'em I said so."
"Tell whom?"
"Whoever may be asking."
"Do tha believe we're Spies, Captain...?" Dixon, with genial16 Tap-Room Menace, moving as if into Range.
"Sirs. I've been out here since before the late War, and have offer'd my Hospitality to many a Spy, of ev'ry persuasion17, for, as Spies must travel, so, it follows, some Travelers must be Spies,— yet I bar my Door to no one. 'Tis a Pursuit of men, away in the distant World, no more sinful than the making of Rifles, or the charging of Quit-Rent, yet do I prefer an honest Quarrel out in the open, myself, 'tis more manly18 somehow, don't ye think?"
Dixon ambles19 closer, beaming. "Yet 'tis a gormless Spy indeed, who'd lurk20 where there are no more Secrets to steal."
"How so?"
"What is there that has not been visited, intentionally21 and not, an hundred times? Gathering22 Ginseng would be more profitable."
Shelby is of course also a Surveyor, who ranges these Mountains all about, bearing and wielding23 his Instrument like a Weapon. "Oh, I saw 'pon the Instant how this was," darkly to Dixon, "I saw how the ancient Sorcerers must have enjoy'd what they did. At our Pleasure, we may look thro' this brazen24 Tube, thro' Glass mathematickally shap'd, and whatever desirable Scene sweeps by as we turn it,— why 'tis ours for writing down the Angle! Good Heavens, what Power!"
There is a love of complexity25, here in America, Shelby declares,— pure Space waits the Surveyor,— no previous Lines, no fences, no streets to constrain26 polygony however extravagant,— especially in Maryland, where, encourag'd by the Re-survey Laws, warranted properties may pos?sess hundreds of sides,— their angles pushing outward and inward,— all Sides zigging and zagging, going ahead and doubling back, making Loops inside Loops,— in America, 'twas ever, Poh! to Simple Quadrilaterals.
"Eeh," Dixon nodding vaguely27. He's never regarded his Occupation in quite this way before. His journeyman years coincided with the rage then sweeping28 Durham for Enclosure,— aye and alas29, he had attended at that Altar. He had slic'd into Polygons the Common-Lands of his Forebears. He had drawn30 Lines of Ink that became Fences of Stone. He had broken up herds31 of Fell sheep, to be driven ragged32 and dingy33 off thro' the Rain, to Gates, and exile. He had turn'd the same covetous34 Angles as the Welshman,— tho' perhaps never as many, for Shelby seem'd seiz'd with Goniolatry, or the Worship of Angles, defining tracts36 of virgin37 Land by as many of these exhilarating Instrumental Sweeps, as possible.
"Thing's to survey your Domain38. Even if you don't own it. Here at the Allegheny Crest39, ye may stand and look either way, down mile after mile of the Visto ye've cut, and from your Eminence40 pretend that you own it. Ev'ry Girl, ev'ry Gambler, Tonick Salesman, and Banjo Player that comes down that Line, could easily be paying Tribute to somebody. Not a lot,— no worse than Quitrent,— a Nuisance-Levy really, even if it's a song or a Card-trick or ten minutes in the Hay-Loft."
Shelby accompanies them over North Mountain, whereupon it begins to rain and snow, and continues so for the next ten days. The Cards come out, and the Chap-books and Dice41 and Bottles. Mason goes to sleep, requesting that he be waken'd only in case of Spring. Dixon tries to learn from Capt. Zhang something of the Luo-Pan, in exchange for Instruction as to the Sector42. "The Attention we are paying these Zenith-Stars," he suggests, "has brought me to imagine an Anti-celestial43, or backwards44 Astrology, in which the Stars must be...projected inward, somehow...? mapp'd from the Celestial Sphere onto the Surface of our Globe...? At Greenwich, for example, the Zenith-Star is Gamma Draconis, putting Britain into the Terrestrial Sign of Draco, the Dragon."
"Just so!" The Geomancer twinkles.
- Yet in Durham We mean something different when we say 'Dragon.' Ours are not at all the Chinese Variety. Some, like the Lambton Worm, lacking Wings and a fire-breathing Capacity, may indeed be of a distinct Species."
"You've seen such a Creature?"
"Heard the story, when growing up. As Lambton Castle lies almost upon the North Sea, we at Cockfield knew it as a Wear Valley tale, that like an ageless Salmon45 had work'd its way over the years upstream to us....At the Market Square in Bishop46, as at Darlington Fair, the Tale was often perform'd by troupes47 of traveling Actors, six of whom would be needed for the part of the Worm. The Drop was painted to suggest the Sea-Fret whispering along the walls, mysterious shapes in the Park beyond, as Romantick as you please. Today the country 'round Lambton is thick with collieries, and pretty much given over to staithes and shoots and waggon-rails,— but the river then was purer and wilder, not yet alto?gether converted to the service of the Christian48 God,— tho', as it hap-pen'd, fishing in it on Sunday, in these parts, had long been forbidden." They take out Pipes, which Capt. Zhang fills with a Blend of cur'd Vege?tation that he will describe only as "Chinese Tobacco,"— courteously49 igniting both, with Embers from the Fire.
"The heedless John Lambton, his Lordship's heir, a young man as malapert in company as he was masterly in a stream,— his own reach of the Wear in particular,— has long refus'd to honor this rule. One Sun?day, instead of the salmon-trout he believes his due, he pulls in a small snakelike thing, with a double row of horrid50 little Vents51 either side of it, from its head down the body, gasping52 open and shut,— nine pair of them. At first he takes it for a Lamprey,— but Lampreys have only seven pair. This thing is different. He feels a strange cold at his tem?ples,— a conscious vibration54 in the fishing-line. It seems to him almost that the creature is gazing into his eyes, with a look of intelligent Evil...."
Just then his friend Reginald comes galloping55 up, with a couple of pack-horses. "All right then John, come along, there'll be no Moors56 left by the time we get to Jerusalem."
"What?"
"The Crusade...? Oh, bother, you said you'd come. I say what's that on your line? Ghastly thing. Throw it back in, let's go bash old Abdul, whatwhat?"
"Yes but Reggie I'm not sure the River's quite the place for it, best interests of the fish and so on. Here, look ye, here's this hole, with some stones 'round the edge, I'll just chuck it in here, shall I."
"But,— isn't it someone's Well?”
"Some tenant57 or something, who cares?" and with one of those knightly59 flourishes, the young fool, damn'd in the instant, actually tosses the Worm into the Well.
"Oh, John," cries Reggie, "that's so amusing!" And thus cheerily, the lads are off to the East, where a number of desperate Adventures wait them.
Meanwhile the Worm is far from idle, having almost immediately begun, in that Womb of wet stone, to grow,— local people hear it thrash?ing about, and the bravest, as they peer down into the echoing dark, may almost see it. Soon, the water has acquir'd an unpleasant taste, metallic60, sour, heavy with a reptilian61 Musk62. Buckets let down do not come back up, creaking noises are heard at night as the well's Casing is brought under some enormous Force,— till one morning, as the Sun rises, so up over the Rim63 of the Well, appears a great blazing pair of Eyes, the closely set, purposeful eyes of a Predator64. Slowly, with no appearance of effort, it begins to ascend from the Well, accompanied by a terrible, poisonous odor,— flowing up over the edge...indeed, it keeps coming for longer than it should. Everything living in the area, including the vegetation, stop what they're doing, and attend. The Worm seems quite hungry.
Taking its time, the Worm proceeds to one of the Batts or Islands in the River, where it sets up its base of operations. Its needs are simple,— Food, drink, and the pleasure to be had from killing65. It eats sheep and swine, it drains milk from cattle nine at a time,— the number nine recurs66 in the Tale, tho' the reason is dark,— and careless dogs, cats, and humans are but light snacks to it. Around it, a circle of Devastation67 appears, pale and soil'd, which no one enters, and which the World must keep shifting for, a little at a time, as it goes on widening,— the Worm each day venturing a little further from its base, till at length the circle of terror advances to include a direct view of the Battlements of Lambton Castle itself, the final sanctuary68, surely inviolable,— although the peo?ple in the Castle dare not try to organize an exodus69, for the Worm when it must can travel at great speed, faster than horses can gallop,— they have watch'd in terror many Chases to the death across the Tide-Plain below, as, once alerted, the Worm has easily cut its Victims off in the open, far from any refuge or escape.
So there begins an Obsession71 by the Worm,— The Chapel72 is never empty now, the Steward73 has begun taking inventory74, rationing75 lists are in early but serious negotiation76. Days once idle are now fill'd with defen?sive chores. Engineers try to get the Trebuchet on the roof into working order, tweaking the shape of the Sling-Release Hook— The Worm is by now grown so large that it may comfortably coil 'round the entire Castle. One day, there will come to it some Sign,— the call of a Raven77, the exact shape of a Moon, the racing78 shadow of a cloud,— which will lead, by an unreadable train of Serpent thought, to a convulsive breaching79 of these walls and a merciless search within, a Face suddenly looming80 in the roofless Sky, a Feast. No one can say when. The Evil One has Lambton Castle literally81 in Its Embrace. The local folk keep a vigil, blending in against the brush on the somber82 hillsides, calculating how fast they'll have to move when the creature turns its attention to them. Days pass,— presently, weeks. The Worm continues to enlarge its Zone of emptiness, but with a change of Center,— returning now after each excursion to coil about the Castle, where it lies all night digesting loudly its day's preda-tion. It is into this increasingly desperate Siege, that John Lambton now returns from his Crusade.
At first look, impaling83 foreigners seems to have agreed with him,— he is tann'd and fit and easy in the Saddle. But beneath the hearty84 Mask lies a Dread85 of what he will encounter. Approaching the Castle, he can smell the Worm long before he sees it. He would have much preferr'd a Dragon, Dragons having from time to time, in County Durham, chosen to infest86 the roads and lay desolate87 the countryside,— it falling, usually, to such known antidraconical families as the Latimers, Wyvils, or Mow-brays, to respond. But those creatures were winged and claw'd, fire-breathing, noble in conformation, the reptilian detailing ever harmless, almost an afterthought. Nothing like what John Lambton, rounding the last bend before home, beholds88, recognizes, and understands as his own creation, something he must now before God deal with.
Time has not been kind to the Worm he threw in the well. It had been unpleasant enough to look at when only elver size,— now, despite what he has seen in the East, he must labor89 not to turn away. The eighteen vents have grown astonishingly, and hang, pulsating90, each surrounded by a deep black annulus of something glist'ring and corroded91. The Face
has lost the youthful malevolence92 that Lambton remembers,— has rather become, deep in its abandonment, now purely93 a Weapon in the service of blood-lust, a serpent's gift for paralyzing its prey53 with a certain Gaze that the potential Luncheon94, once returning it, is helpless to defy. Even Lambton, though at a safe enough distance, finds it strangely attractive.
He has not exactly been to the Holy Land,— where he ended up, in fact, was Transylvania,— this being one of the very last Crusades, taken up more in a privateering spirit by one Cardinal95 Cassarini and a party of adventurers from many lands, who by breaking the Truce96 of Szeged and then losing at the battle of Varna, helped prepare the way for the Turks who were to capture Constantinople a few years later. During a long Iliad of hard soldiering and small, mortal, never-decisive engagements amid dramatic hilltops, haunted castles, mysterious flocks of Bats that always seem'd to be lingering about, Lambton one night, seeking diversion, had visited the encampment of a band of Gypsies, who included in their number a Sibyl widely respected for having successfully foretold97 every wedding, birth, adultery, and flow of wealth in this Locality for longer than anyone could remember. Solemnly, she inform'd him of the exact situation prevailing98 at Lambton Castle. "Then must I hasten home, to destroy this Monster. Shall I prevail?"
"Bocsánat,— I do not do Deaths. I am far too cheerful. You want to see a Roumanian for that sort of thing."
" 'Twould be little more than a sporting contest...?" young Lambton talking fast, "no more violent than jousting99, really...?"
"Milord, please,— my time is as precious as yours. What I can do is bring in a priest here, divide the Fee, arrange an Oath for you."
"Anything," he assur'd her, "but quickly."
The Oath was fairly simple, he read it over a few times, couldn't find much wrong with it, so willingly knelt beside his sword and vow'd, that if God should allow him victory over the Worm, he would sacrifice unto Him the first living thing he then happen'd to see. "There are penalty clauses," the priest helpfully pointing them out, upon the long piece of parchment he'd just sign'd.
"If I prevail, then so drench'd in blood shall I be, that Bloodshed will weigh less upon my conscience, than it does even here, in Transylvania,”
avow'd the open-faced yet somber young Heir. "Therefore, I shall not default."
Once back in Durham, however,— having come to think of God under the aspect more of Fortune than of anything more Churchly,— he under?stands that his Duty also includes providing what he can, himself, on Earth, to shorten his odds100.
Choosing from among the small crowd of youths always to be found, when the Worm is away, about the approaches to the Castle seeking Engagement as Runners, Lambton arranges for his father, immediately the Worm's destruction shall be signal'd by a blast upon a hunting horn, to send out one of the Castle Hounds. Neither Lambton thinks of this as cheating. It will be a legitimate101 sacrifice. Every one of those dogs is like family.
Young Lambton next rides up to Washington,— the Colonel's ancestral home, in fact,— to consult with the Armorsmith who fitted him out for his Crusade. Galloping toward the glow of the forge,— visible for miles, now and then reflected in the Wear,— he considers his basic tactical problem, which is the Worm's reported ability, even hack'd into separate pieces by conventional sword-work, to reassemble itself and fight on.
"I've been looking into this very difficulty," the Armorer greets him. "Glad you came by,— here, come and see." Inside the shop, lit by the lurid102 glow of the coals, with a sweating apprentice103 staring at them unfathomably, gleams a suit of Armor, to young Lambton's exact mea?surements, provided all over with hundreds of firmly attach'd sword-quality Blades, whose honed edges flicker104 with sanguinary light.
"Perfect. It won't be able to use its coils,— it'll have to come head-on, and happen I'll get lucky with m' Pike... ?"
They discuss tactics far into the night. He returns with the Armor, pack'd in Straw. For the first Time, he understands that ev'rywhere about, for leagues, sleep Souls in real Bodies, mortal as any in Hungary, impossible longer to ignore, and that at Dawn, by way of their dreams, will all wake knowing what is to happen that day.
Young Lambton chooses to wait out upon the Worm's own Batt, the river flowing swiftly by on either side. Birds are subdued105, treed. For the benefit of observers, of whom there are many, he kneels a moment, appearing to repeat his sacred Oath, before rising to put on, very care-
fully, piece by razor-keen piece, his bloodletting suit,— till all at last is ready. Then he hears it,— the unimagin'd tons of wet and purposeful Flesh, moving a-clatter through the reeds, ever closer, till out of the riparian mist emerges, towering, the savage106 Head, the deathlike Face, of the great Worm. It hisses107, in a long exhalation. When the smell reaches him, young Lambton smiles grimly. "Plenty of time to vomit108 when we're done, thanks."
The fight is slow, bloody109, repetitive. A Dream,— fever-shot, unwak-ing. It lasts most of the day. Small boys approach as close as they dare. Adolescent Rogues110 comment upon the weaponry, the suit, the hacking111 technique. Townsfolk watch from the Hill-sides the red, thrashing immensity filling the river, and the tiny, glitt'ring Knight58. To his Obsti?nacy there seems no limit. Those who remember him as a flighty and lazy Child marvel112 at the change. "Before he went off to Jerusalem...?— he'd've run away, the bugger." Young Lambton fights on. At last, after too many cuts, deep and deeper, the Worm's capacity for self-repair is over?come, it lets out a series of last liquid hateful screams, echoing up the Valley all the way to Chester-Le-Street, and perishes, to be borne away, most of its blood ahead of it, already halfway113 to Dogger Bank, chunks114 of Flesh forever separate, out into the North Sea, where even the most vora?cious of the fish will only pick at it.
With the last of his strength, Lambton climbs to the now deliver'd Castle, stands before it, and blows upon his Oliphant. The dogs inside hear it and all start barking at once. They grow so agitated115 that none of the Lambton servants dares approach them. Meanwhile, blissfully hav?ing forgotten about the terms of the Oath, vertiginous116 in a Storm of emo?tions, the Elder Lambton can think only of seeing his son again. He is an aged117 man, but he runs as he can over the drawbridge, arms held out. "John! Oh, my Boy!" He is of course the first living thing young Lambton sees.
"Eeh!" Young John just stands there, almost too tired to realize what has happen'd. Now, by the terms of his Contract, 'tis his father he must kill. It would be easy,— so foolish in his transport is the old man that a single embrace, folding him tightly but without mercy into the bladed Vambraces and Breast-Plate of the Worm-stain'd armor, would do the job. He could say he had been too exhausted118 to think. Then again, the Oath
was taken in Hungary.... As God exempts119 England from many of Europe's less agreeable obligations to History, so, surely, must Oaths taken in foreign lands, at which foreign Priests and Gypsies attend, be without force here? He allows himself this sophistry,— it delays acting120 upon what he already knows,— that he cannot kill his father, that he must break the Oath, as he once consciously broke the Truce of Szeged... thus already corrupted121, why shouldn't he? He lets go his sword, the image of the Cross he has sworn upon, lets it fall, turns, walks away, looking for someone who can help him out of the edg'd, and now perhaps even ven?omous, iron weapon he is wearing. Henceforth, when attending to internal business, he will put it on again and again, for the rest of his Life.
"The penalty stipulated122 in the Contract, to remain in force for nine generations,— one for each pair of holes in the Creature,— was that no Lord of Lambton die in his bed. Under this Gypsy curse, one by one, they drown'd, they were kill'd in battle,— Wakefield, Marston Moor,— sure 'twas, none died in bed. The last, the ninth Lord, was Henry Lambton, and one of my letters from Durham, brought me, whilst at the Cape70, news that he'd died, three weeks after the Transit123 of Venus, riding 'cross the new Lambton Bridge in his carriage."
"Halfway between Shores," murmurs124 Mason, "his mortal Transit how brief. Never to reach Lambton, his own bit of Earth,—
"Actually, he was heading the other way," says Dixon, "out over the Wear, into the world,— another Adventure."
"Cruelly serv'd," it seems to the Revd. "Nine innocent Generations. Whatever aid against the Worm young Lambton invok'd, its Source requir'd Blood Sacrifices. Because he spar'd his own Father's Life, it curs'd him and his Line most grievously for hundreds of years? What Agency could be so remorselessly cruel? Is it possible that at the battle in the Wear, the wrong forces won?"
"Why, Christ won, that Day...?" Dixon,— whose present state of reli?giosity is a puzzle to everyone,— appears to find it curious that anyone could think otherwise.
"Hum. Christians125 won, anyway," pronounces Capt. Shelby.
"Howbeit," Revd Cherrycoke suggests, "the Worm may have embod?ied... an older way of proceeding,— very like the ancient Alchemists' Tales, meant to convey by Symbols certain secret teachings.”
' 'Tis that Worm in that Well, that's the Signature here.— " Set in an open doorway126, twilight breeze off the Mountain flowing in around him, flaming autumn sky behind him, Evan Shelby is suddenly taller, more sly and cruel than he seem'd at first meeting, with a way of rolling his eyes to convey Celtic madness. "The Ancient figure of the Serpent through the Ring, or Sacred Copu-lation,— a much older magic, and certainly one the Christians wanted to eradicate127."
"Thoughts that in my Line of work are too often denounc'd as 'Stukeleyesque,' or at the least 'Stonehengickal,' " adds the Revd.
"Not to mention 'Masonick,' " Dixon broadly pollicating his partner,— but Mason is hundreds of Chains remov'd into Morosity, accepting with?out full attention a glaz'd jug128 of the local white corn Whiskey from the Captain, who continues,—
"Nevertheless, Sir, the Serpent-mound which is at Avebury in England, looks very like one I have seen to the West of here, across Ohio. They might have been built by quite similar races of People."
"Red savages129, in Britain?" Revd Cherrycoke a bit puzzl'd.
"Sir, when you go out there and talk to them about it," Capt. Shelby insists, "the Indians tell you that the Serpent, as the other earthworks unnumber'd of that Country, was already ancient, by the time their own people arriv'd. Indians speak of a race of Giants, who built them— I had to hide all night once, within the Coils of some Serpent.. .they fancy the fiercer Animals.... All night, the Shawanese kept their distance, and I even managed to sleep,— briefly130 but in great comfort, somehow certain they would never venture close enough to find me. I woke strangely ener-giz'd, the Foe131 had vanish'd, the Dawn was well under way."
In the distance a Wench shouts, "There, Tom,— you've ripp'd me Bodice again!" Capt. Shelby rolls a paternal132 eye outdoors, in her direc?tion. Nothing that passes here must escape him.
The Surveyors, enjoying previous acquaintance, eastward133 of here, with wilderness134 Squires135 upon the model of Capt. Shelby, have already discuss'd his Character. "Large Eyebrows136," Mason had opined, "betray a leaning to pugnacious137 eccentricity,— there is a passage in Pliny to that effect. Or, there ought to be."
"We're about as far from Philadelphia, here, as Durham from Lon?don," Dixon offer'd, "— much further, if you figure in the Trees and
things, Precipices138, Gorges,— and it seems quite like home, West being for Americans what North is for Geordies, an increasing Likelihood of local Power lying in the Hands of Eccentrics, more independence, more Scotismus, as tha'd say."
And, "Brows/ Of dauntless courage and considerate pride/ Waiting revenge...," the Revd had quoted them Milton, upon Satan.
"And really the odd thing," the Captain's Eye now rolling back, fiendishly, to play full upon Dixon, "is that from the level of the ground, why, it seems but a high wall of dirt.— The only way even to make out the Serpent shape of it, is from an hundred feet straight up,"
Dixon reddens, believing, for no reason, that Shelby somehow knows of his childhood flights over the Fells. "There must be a hilltop... ? a tall Tree, close by... ?"
"Not close enough to 'spy down upon it from, regrettably, Sir." Anyone who wonders what Imps139 look like in their Middle Years would be per?haps35 more than satisfied with Shelby's Phiz at the moment,— Malice140 undiminish'd, with a Daily Schedule that leaves him too little time to express it.
"Then— " Mason catches himself about to ask how Capt. Shelby can know what the Plan View looks like, unless he has himself gain'd an impossible Altitude, noting also the thicketed eyebrows of the Welshman waiting, rearrang'd, for just this question.
"You must appreciate this is no idle Drudgery,— not some band of Savages, groping about earthbound for the correct Shape. Rather, 'tis a sure Artist's line, the Curves sweeping in preordain'd accommodation to the River,— if I grow too Rhapsodic, pray set the Dogs upon me. You would need to see one of these Works to understand.”
收听单词发音 |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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potency
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| n. 效力，潜能 | |
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percussive
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anvil
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watershed
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| n.转折点，分水岭，分界线 | |
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avid
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| adj.热心的；贪婪的；渴望的；劲头十足的 | |
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mania
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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meanders
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| 曲径( meander的名词复数 )； 迂回曲折的旅程 | |
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pretext
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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ambles
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的第三人称单数 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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wielding
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的现在分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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24
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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25
complexity
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| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
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constrain
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| vt.限制，约束；克制，抑制 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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28
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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29
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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30
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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31
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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32
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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33
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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34
covetous
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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35
haps
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| n.粗厚毛披巾；偶然，机会，运气( hap的名词复数 ) | |
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36
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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37
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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38
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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39
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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40
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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41
dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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42
sector
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| n.部门，部分；防御地段，防区；扇形 | |
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43
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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44
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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45
salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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46
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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47
troupes
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| n. （演出的）一团, 一班 vi. 巡回演出 | |
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48
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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49
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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50
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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51
vents
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| （气体、液体等进出的）孔、口( vent的名词复数 )； （鸟、鱼、爬行动物或小哺乳动物的）肛门； 大衣等的)衩口； 开衩 | |
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52
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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53
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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54
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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55
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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56
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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57
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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58
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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59
knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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60
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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61
reptilian
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| adj.（像）爬行动物的；（像）爬虫的；卑躬屈节的；卑鄙的n.两栖动物；卑劣的人 | |
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62
musk
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| n.麝香, 能发出麝香的各种各样的植物，香猫 | |
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63
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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64
predator
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| n.捕食其它动物的动物；捕食者 | |
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65
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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66
recurs
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| 再发生，复发( recur的第三人称单数 ) | |
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67
devastation
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| n.毁坏；荒废；极度震惊或悲伤 | |
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68
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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69
exodus
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| v.大批离去，成群外出 | |
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70
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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71
obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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72
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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73
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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74
inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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75
rationing
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| n.定量供应 | |
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76
negotiation
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| n.谈判，协商 | |
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77
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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78
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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79
breaching
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| 攻破( breach的过去式 )； 破坏，违反 | |
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80
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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81
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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82
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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83
impaling
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| 钉在尖桩上( impale的现在分词 ) | |
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84
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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85
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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86
infest
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| v.大批出没于；侵扰；寄生于 | |
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87
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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88
beholds
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| v.看，注视( behold的第三人称单数 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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89
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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90
pulsating
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| adj.搏动的，脉冲的v.有节奏地舒张及收缩( pulsate的现在分词 )；跳动；脉动；受（激情）震动 | |
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91
corroded
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| 已被腐蚀的 | |
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92
malevolence
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| n.恶意，狠毒 | |
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93
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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94
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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95
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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96
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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97
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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99
jousting
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| （骑士）骑马用长矛比武( joust的现在分词 ) | |
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100
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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101
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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102
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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103
apprentice
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| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
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104
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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105
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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106
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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107
hisses
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| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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108
vomit
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| v.呕吐，作呕；n.呕吐物，吐出物 | |
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109
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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110
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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111
hacking
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| n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
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112
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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113
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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114
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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115
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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116
vertiginous
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| adj.回旋的；引起头晕的 | |
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117
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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118
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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119
exempts
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| 使免除[豁免]( exempt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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120
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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121
corrupted
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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122
stipulated
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| vt.& vi.规定；约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
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123
transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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124
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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125
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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126
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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127
eradicate
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| v.根除，消灭，杜绝 | |
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128
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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129
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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130
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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131
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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132
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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133
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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134
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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135
squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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136
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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137
pugnacious
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| adj.好斗的 | |
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138
precipices
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| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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139
imps
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| n.（故事中的）小恶魔( imp的名词复数 )；小魔鬼；小淘气；顽童 | |
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140
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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