Ingtar set a fast pace for the beginning of along journey, fast enough that Rand worried a little about the horses. The animals could keep up the trot2 for hours, but there was still most of the day ahead, and likely days more beyond that. The way Ingtar's face was set, though, Rand thought he might intend to catch those who had stolen the Horn in the first day, in the first hour. Remembering his voice when he swore his oath to the Amyrlin Seat, Rand would not have been surprised. He kept his mouth shut, though. It was Lord Ingtar's command; as friendly as he had been to Rand, he still would not appreciate a shepherd giving advice.
Hurin rode a pace behind Ingtar, but it was the sniffer who led them south, pointing the way for Ingtar. The land was rolling, forested hills, thick with fir and leatherleaf and oak, but the path Hurin set led almost straight as an arrow, never wavering except to go around a few of the taller hills, where the way was clearly quicker around than over. The Gray Owl4 banner rippled5 in the wind.
Rand tried to ride with Mat and Perrin, but when Rand let his horse drop back to them, Mat nudged Perrin, and Perrin reluctantly galloped6 to the head of the column with Mat. Telling himself there was no point riding at the back by himself, Rand rode back to the front. They fell to the rear again, Mat again urging Perrin.
Burn them. I only want to apologize. He felt alone. It did not help that he knew it was his own fault.
Atop one hill, Uno dismounted to examine ground churned by hooves. He poked7 at some horse droppings and grunted8. "Bloody9 well moving fast, my Lord." He had a voice that sounded as if he were shouting when he was just speaking. "We've not made up an hour on them. Burn me, we may have lost a flaming hour. They'll kill their bloody horses, the way they're going." He fingered a hoofed10 track. "No horse, that. Bloody Trolloc. Some flaming goat feet over there."
"We will catch them," Ingtar said grimly.
"Our horses, my Lord. Does no good to ride them into the bloody ground before we do catch up, my Lord. Even if they do kill their horses, bloody Trollocs can keep going longer than horses."
"We will catch them. Mount, Uno."
Uno looked at Rand with his one eye, then shrugged11 and climbed into his saddle. Ingtar took them down the far slope at a run, half sliding all the way to the bottom, and galloped up the next.
Why did he look at me that way, Rand wondered. Uno was one of those who had never shown much friendliness12 toward him. It was not like Masema's open dislike; Uno was not friendly with anyone except a few veterans as grizzled as himself. Surely he doesn't believe that tale about me being a lord.
Uno spent his time studying the country ahead, but when he caught Rand looking at him, he gave back stare for stare, and never said a word. It did not mean much. He would stare Ingtar in the eye, too. That was Uno's way.
The path chosen by the Darkfriends - And what else, Rand wondered; Hurin kept muttering about "something worse" - who had stolen the Horn never came close to any village. Rand saw villages, from one hilltop to another, with a mile or more of up-and-down country between, but there was never one close enough to make out the people in the streets. Or close enough for those people to make out a party heading south. There were farms, too, with low-eaved houses and tall barns and smoking chimneys, on hilltops and on hillsides and in the bottoms, but never one close enough for the farmer to have seen their quarry13.
Eventually even Ingtar had to realize that the horses could not keep on as they were going. Rand heard muttered curses, and Ingtar pounded his thigh14 with a gauntleted fist, but finally he ordered everyone to dismount. They trotted15, leading their horses, uphill and down, for a mile, then mounted and rode again. Then it was down again and trot. Trot a mile, then ride a mile. Trot, then ride.
Rand was surprised to see Loial grinning when they were down on the ground, toiling16 up a hill. The Ogier had been uneasy about riding and horses when they first met, preferring to trust to his own feet, but Rand thought he had long gotten over that.
"Do you like to run, Rand?" Loial laughed. "I do. I was the fastest in Stedding Shangtai. I outran a horse, once."
Rand only shook his head. He did not want to waste breath on talk. He looked for Mat and Perrin, but they were still at the back, too many men between for Rand to make them out. He wondered how the Shienarans could manage this in their armor. Not a one of them slowed or voiced a complaint. Uno did not even look as if he were breaking a sweat, and the bannerman never let the Gray Owl waver.
It was a quick pace, but twilight17 began to close without any sight of those they hunted except their tracks. At last, reluctantly, Ingtar called a halt to make camp for the night in the forest. The Shienarans went about getting fires started and setting picket-lines for the horses with a smooth economy of effort born of long experience. Ingtar posted six guards, in pairs, for the first watch.
Rand's first order of business was finding his bundle in the wicker panniers from the packhorses. It was not hard - there were few personal bundles among the supplies - but when he had it open, he let out a shout that brought every man in the camp erect18 with sword in hand.
Ingtar came running. "What is it? Peace, did someone get through? I did not hear the guards."
"It's these coats," Rand growled20, still staring at what he had unpacked21. One coat was black, embroidered22 with silver thread, the other white worked in gold. Both had herons on the collars, and both were at least as ornate as the scarlet23 coat he was wearing. "The servants told me I had two good, serviceable coats in here. Look at them!"
Ingtar sheathed24 his sword over his shoulder. The other men began to settle back down. "Well, they are serviceable."
"I can't wear these. I can't go around dressed like this all the time."
"You can wear them. A coat's a coat. I understand Moiraine Sedai herself saw to your packing. Maybe Aes Sedai do not exactly understand what a man wears in the field." Ingtar grinned. "After we catch these Trollocs, perhaps we'll have a feast. You will be dressed for it, at least, even if the rest of us are not." He strolled back to where the cook fires were already burning.
Rand had not moved since Ingtar mentioned Moiraine. He stared at the coats. What is she doing? Whatever it is, I will not be rued25. He bundled everything together again and stuffed the bundle back into the pannier. I can always go naked, he thought bitterly.
Shienarans took turns at the cooking when they were in the field, and Masema was stirring the kettle when Rand returned to the fires. The smell of a stew26 made from turnips27, onions, and dried meat settled over the camp. Ingtar was served first, and then Uno, but everyone else stood in line however they happened to come. Masema slopped a big ladle of stew on Rand's plate; Rand stepped back quickly to keep from getting the overflow28 on his coat, and made room for the next man while sucking a burned thumb. Masema stared at him, with a fixed29 grin that never reached his eyes. Until Uno stepped up and cuffed30 him.
"We didn't bloody bring enough for you to be spilling it on the flaming ground." The one-eyed man looked at Rand and left. Masema rubbed his ear, but his glare followed Rand.
Rand went to join Ingtar and Loial, sitting on the ground under a spreading oak. Ingtar had his helmet off, on the ground beside him, but otherwise he was fully31 armored. Mat and Perrin were already there, eating hungrily. Mat gave a broad sneer32 at Rand's coat, but Perrin barely looked up, golden eyes shining in the half-light from the fires, before bending back to his plate.
At least they didn't leave this time.
He sat cross-legged on the other side of Ingtar from them. "I wish I knew why Uno keeps looking at me. It's probably this bloody coat."
Ingtar paused thoughtfully around a mouthful of stew. Finally he said, "Uno no doubt wonders if you are worthy33 of a heron-mark blade." Mat snorted loudly, but Ingtar went on unperturbed. "Do not let Uno upset you. He would treat Lord Agelmar like a raw recruit if he could. Well, perhaps not Agelmar, but anyone else. He has a tongue like a file, but he gives good advice. He should; he's been campaigning since before I was born. Listen to his advice, don't mind his tongue, and you will do all right with Uno."
"I thought he was like Masema." Rand shoveled35 stew into his mouth. It was too hot, but he gulped36 it down. They had not eaten since leaving Fal Dara, and he had been too worried to eat that morning. His stomach rumbled37, reminding him it was past time. He wondered if telling Masema he liked the food would help. "Masema acts like he hates me, and I don't understand it."
"Masema served three years in the Eastern Marches," Ingtar said. "At Ankor Dail, against the Aiel." He stirred his stew with his spoon, frowning. "I ask no questions, mind. If Lan Dai Shan and Moiraine Sedai want to say you are from Andor, from the Two Rivers, then you are. But Masema can't get the look of the Aiel out of his head, and when he sees you . . . ." He shrugged. "I ask no questions."
Rand dropped his spoon in the plate with a sigh. "Everybody thinks I'm somebody I am not. I am from the Two Rivers, Ingtar. I grew tabac with - with my father, and tended his sheep. That is what I am. A farmer and shepherd from the Two Rivers."
"He's from the Two Rivers," Mat said scornfully. "I grew up with him, though you'd never know it now. You put this Aiel nonsense in his head on top of what's already there, and the Light knows what we'll have. An Aiel lord, maybe."
"No," Loial said, "he has the look. You remember, Rand, I remarked on it once,. though I thought it was just because I didn't know you humans well enough then. Remember? 'Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance38 with the last breath, to spit in Sightblinder's eye on the Last Day.' You remember, Rand."
Rand stared at his plate. Wrap a shoufa around your head, and you would be the image of an Aielman. That had been Gawyn, brother to Elayne, the Daughter-Heir of Andor. Everybody thinks I'm somebody I'm not.
"What was that?" Mat asked. "About spitting in the Dark One's eye."
"That's how long the Aiel say they'll fight," Ingtar said, "and I don't doubt they will. Except for peddlers and gleemen, Aiel divide the world in two. Aiel, and enemies. They changed that for Cairhien five hundred years ago, for some reason no one but an Aiel could understand, but I do not think they will ever do so again."
"I suppose not," Loial sighed. "But they do let the Tuatha'an, the Traveling People, cross the Waste. And they don't see Ogier as enemies, either, though I doubt any of us would want to go out into the Waste. Aiel come to Stedding Shangtai sometimes to trade for sung wood. A hard people, though. "
Ingtar nodded. "I wish I had some as hard. Half as hard."
"Is that a joke?" Mat laughed. "If I ran a mile wearing all the iron you're wearing, I would fall down and sleep a week. You've done it mile after mile all day."
"Aiel are hard," Ingtar said. "Man and woman, hard. I've fought them, and I know. They will run fifty miles, and fight a battle at the end of it. They're death walking, with any weapon or none. Except a sword. They will not touch a sword, for some reason. Or ride a horse, not that they need to. If you have a sword, and the Aielman has his bare hands, it is an even fight. If you're good. They herd3 cattle and goats where you or I would die of thirst before the day was done. They dig their villages into huge rock spires39 out in the Waste. They've been there since the Breaking, near enough. Artur Hawkwing tried to dig them out and was bloodied41, the only major defeats he ever suffered. By day the air in the Aiel Waste shimmers42 with heat, and by night it freezes. And an Aiel will give you that blue-eyed stare and tell you there is no place on earth he would rather be. He won't be lying, either. If they ever tried to come out, we would be hard-pressed to stop them. The Aiel War lasted three years, and that was only four out of thirteen clans43."
"Gray eyes from his mother doesn't make him an Aiel," Mat said.
Ingtar shrugged. "As I said, I ask no questions."
When Rand finally settled down for the night, his head hummed with unwanted thoughts. Image of an Aielman. Moiraine Sedai wants to say you're from the Two Rivers. Aiel ravaged44 all the way to Tar1 Valon. Born on the slopes of Dragonmount. The Dragon Reborn.
"I will not be used," he muttered, but sleep was a long time coming.
Ingtar broke camp before the sun was up in the morning. They had breakfasted and were riding south while the clouds in the east were still red with sunrise to come and dew still hung on the leaves. This time Ingtar put out scouts45, and though the pace was hard, it was no longer horse-killing46. Rand thought maybe Ingtar had realized they were not going to do it all in a day. The trail still led south, Hurin said. Until, two hours after the sun rose, one of the scouts came galloping47 back.
"Abandoned camp ahead, my Lord. Just on that hilltop there. Must have been at least thirty or forty of them there last night, my Lord."
Ingtar put spurs to horse as if he had been told the Darkfriends were still there, and Rand had to keep pace or be trampled48 by the Shienarans who galloped up the hill behind him.
There was not much to see. The cold ashes of campfires, well hidden in the trees, with what looked like the remnants of a meal tossed in them. A refuse heap too near the fires and already buzzing with flies.
Ingtar kept the others back, and dismounted to walk through the campsite with Uno, examining the ground. Hurin rode the circumference49 of the site, sniffing50. Rand sat his stallion with the other men; he had no desire for any closer look at a place where Trollocs and Darkfriends had camped. And a Fade. And something worse.
Mat scrambled51 up the hill afoot and stalked into the campsite. "Is this what a Darkfriend camp looks like? Smells a bit, but I can't say it looks any different from anybody else's." He kicked at one of the ash heaps, knocking out a piece of burned bone, and stooped to pick it up. "What do Darkfriends eat? Doesn't look like a sheep bone, or a cow."
"There was murder done here," Hurin said mournfully. He scrubbed at his nose with a kerchief. "Worse than murder."'
"There were Trollocs here," Ingtar said, looking straight at Mat. "I suppose they got hungry, and the Darkfriends were handy." Mat dropped the blackened bone; he looked as if he were going to be sick.
"They are not going south any longer, my Lord," Hurin said. That took everyone's attention. He pointed52 back, to the northeast. "Maybe they've decided53 to break for the Blight54 after all. Go around us. Maybe they were just trying to put us off by coming south." He did not sound as if he believed it. He sounded puzzled.
"Whatever they were trying," Ingtar snarled55, "I'll have them now. Mount!"
Little more than an hour later, though, Hurin drew rein57. "They changed again, my Lord. South again. And they killed someone else here."
There were no ashes there, in the gap between two hills, but a few minutes' search found the body. A man curled up and stuffed under some bushes. The back of his head was smashed in, and his eyes still bulged58 with the force of the blow. No one recognized him, though he was wearing Shienaran clothes.
"We'll waste no time burying Darkfriends," Ingtar growled. "We ride south." He suited his own words almost before they were out of his mouth.
The day was the same as the day before had been, though. Uno studied tracks and droppings, and said they had gained a little ground on their quarry. Twilight came with no sight of Trollocs or Darkfriends, and the next morning there was another abandoned camp-and another murder done, so Hurin said-and another change of direction, this time to the northwest. Less than two hours on that track found another body, a man with his skull59 split open by an axe60, and another change of direction. South again. Again gaining ground, by Uno's reading of the tracks. Again seeing nothing but distant farms until nightfall. And the next day was the same, changes in direction, murders and all. And the next.
Every day brought them a little closer behind their prey61, but Ingtar fumed62. He suggested cutting straight across when the trail changed direction of a morning-surely they would come on the trail heading south again, and gain more time-and before anyone could speak, he said it was a bad idea, in case this once the men they hunted did not turn south. He urged everyone to greater speed, to start earlier and ride till full dark. He reminded them of the charge the Amyrlin Seat had given them, to recover the Horn of Valere, and let nothing bar their way. He spoke63 of the glory they would have, their names remembered in story and history, in gleemen's tales and bards64' songs, the men who found the Horn. He talked as if he could not stop, and he stared down the trail they followed as if his hope of the Light lay at the end of it. Even Uno began to look at him askance.
And so they came to the River Erinin.
It could not properly be called a village at all, to Rand's mind. He sat his horse among the trees, peering up at half a dozen small houses with wood-shingled roofs and eaves almost to the ground, on a hilltop overlooking the river beneath the morning sun. Few people passed this way. It was only a few hours since they had broken camp, but past time for them to have found the remains65 of the Darkfriends' resting place if the pattern held. They had seen nothing of the sort, however.
The river itself was not much like the mighty66 Erinin of story, here so far toward its source in the Spine67 of the World. Perhaps sixty paces of swift water to the far bank, lined with trees, and a barge68-like ferry on a thick rope spanning the distance. The ferry sat snugged69 against the other side.
For once the trail had led straight to human habitation. Straight to the houses on the hill. No one moved on the single dirt street around which the dwellings70 clustered.
"Ambush71, my Lord?" Uno said softly.
Ingtar gave the necessary orders, and the Shienarans unlimbered their lances, sweeping72 around to encircle the houses. At a hand signal from Ingtar they galloped between the houses from four directions, thundering in with eyes searching, lances ready, dust rising under their hooves. Nothing moved but them. They drew rein, and the dust began to settle.
Rand returned to his quiver the arrow he had nocked, and slung73 his bow on his back again. Mat and Perrin did the same. Loial and Hurin had just waited there where Ingtar had left them, watching uneasily.
Ingtar waved, and Rand and the others rode up to join the Shienarans.
"I don't like the smell of this place," Perrin muttered as they came among the houses. Hurin gave him a look, and he stared back until Hurin dropped his eyes. "It smells wrong."
"Bloody Darkfriends and Trollocs went straight through, my Lord," Uno said, pointing to a few tracks not chopped to pieces by the Shienarans. "Straight through to the goat-kissing ferry, which they bloody left on the other side. Blood and bloody ashes! We're flaming lucky they didn't cut it adrift. "
"Where are the people?" Loial asked.
Doors stood open, curtains flapped at open windows, but no one had come out for all the thunder of hooves.
"Search the houses," Ingtar commanded. Men dismounted and ran to comply, but they came back shaking their heads.
"They're just gone, my Lord," Uno said. "Just bloody gone, burn me. Like they'd picked up and decided to flaming walk away in the middle of the bloody day." He stopped suddenly, pointing urgently to a house behind Ingtar. "There's a woman at that window. How I bloody missed her . . . ." He was running for the house before anyone else could move.
"Don't frighten her!" Ingtar shouted. "Uno, we need information. The Light blind you, Uno, don't frighten her!" The one-eyed man disappeared through the open door. Ingtar raised his voice again. "We will not harm you, good lady. We are Lord Agelmar's oathmen, from Fal Dara. Do not be afraid! We will not harm you."
A window at the top of the house flew up, and Uno stuck his head out, staring around wildly. With an oath he pulled back. Thumps74 and clatters75 marked his passage back, as if he were kicking things in frustration76. Finally he appeared from the doorway77.
"Gone, my Lord. But she was there. A woman in a white dress, at the window. I saw her. I even thought I saw her inside, for a moment, but then she was gone, and . . . ." He took a deep breath. "The house is empty, my Lord." It was a measure of his agitation78 that he did not curse.
"Curtains," Mat muttered. "He's jumping at bloody curtains." Uno gave him a sharp look, then returned to his horse.
"Where did they go?" Rand asked Loial. "Do you think they ran off when the Darkfriends came?" And Trollocs, and a Myrddraal. And Hurin's something worse. Smart people, if they ran as hard as they could.
"I fear the Darkfriends took them, Rand," Loial said slowly. He grimaced79, almost a snarl56 with his broad nose like a snout. "For the Trollocs." Rand swallowed and wished he had not asked; it was never pleasant to think on how Trollocs fed.
"Whatever was done here," Ingtar said, "our Darkfriends did it. Hurin, was there violence here? Killing? Hurin!"
The sniffer gave a start in his saddle and looked around wildly. He had been staring across the river. "Violence, my Lord? Yes: Killing, no. Or not exactly." He glanced sideways at Perrin. "I've never smelled anything exactly like it before, my Lord. But there was hurting done."
"Is there any doubt they crossed over? Have they doubled back again?"
"They crossed, my Lord." Hurin looked uneasily at the far bank. "They crossed. What they did on the other side, though . . . ." He shrugged.
Ingtar nodded. "Uno, I want that ferry back on this side. And I want the other side scouted80 before we cross. Just because there was no ambush here doesn't mean there will not be one when we are split by the river. That ferry does not look big enough to carry us all in one trip. See to it."
Uno bowed, and in moments Ragan and Masema were helping81 each other out of their armor. Stripped down to breechclouts, with a dagger82 stuck behind in the small of the back, they trotted to the river on horsemen's bowed legs and waded83 in, beginning to work their way hand over hand along the thick rope along which the ferry ran. The cable sagged84 enough in the middle to put them in the river to their waists, and the current was strong, pulling them downstream, yet in less time than Rand expected they were hauling themselves over the slatted sides of the ferry. Drawing their daggers85, they disappeared into the trees.
After what seemed like forever, the two men reappeared and began pulling the ferry slowly across. The barge butted86 against the bank below the village, and Masema tied it off while Ragan trotted up to where Ingtar waited. His face was pale, the arrow scar on his cheek sharp, and he sounded shaken.
"The far bank . . . . There is no ambush on the far bank, my Lord, but . . . ." He bowed deeply, still wet and shivering from his excursion. "My Lord, you must see for yourself. The big stoneoak, fifty paces south from the landing. I cannot say the words. You must see it yourself."
Ingtar frowned, looking from Ragan to the other bank. Finally, he said, "You have done well, Ragan. Both of you have." His voice became more brisk. "Find these men something to dry themselves on from the houses, Uno. And see if anybody left water on for tea. Put something hot into them, if you can. Then bring the second file and the pack animals over." He turned to Rand. "Well, are you ready to see the south bank of the Erinin?" He did not wait for an answer, but rode down to the ferry with Hurin and half the lancers.
Rand hesitated only a moment before following. Loial went with him. To his surprise, Perrin rode down ahead of them, looking grim. Some of the lancers, making gruff jokes, dismounted to haul on the rope and walk the ferry over.
Mat waited until the last minute, when one of the Shienarans was untying87 the ferry, before he kicked his horse and crowded aboard. "I have to come sooner or later, don't I?" he said, breathless, to no one in particular. "I have to find it."
Rand shook his head. With Mat looking as healthy as he ever had, he had almost forgotten why he was along. To find the dagger. Let Ingtar have the Horn. I just want the dagger for Mat. "We will find it, Mat."
Mat scowled88 at him - with a sneering89 glance for his fine red coat - and turned away. Rand sighed.
"It will all come right, Rand," Loial said quietly. "Somehow, it will."
The current took the ferry as it was hauled out from the bank, tugging90 it against the cable with a sharp creak. The lancers were odd ferrymen, walking the deck in helmets and armor, with swords on their backs, but they took the ferry out into the river well enough.
"This is how we left home," Perrin said suddenly. "At Taren Ferry. The ferrymen's boots clunking on the deck, and the water gurgling around the ferry. This is how we left. It will be worse, this time."
"How can it be worse?" Rand asked. Perrin did not answer. He searched the far bank, and his golden eyes almost seemed to shine, but not with eagerness.
After a minute, Mat asked, "How can it be worse?"
"It will be. I can smell it," was all Perrin would say. Hurin eyed him nervously91, but then Hurin seemed to be eyeing everything nervously since they had left Fal Dara.
The ferry bumped against the south bank with a hollow thud of stout92 planks93 against hard clay, almost under overhanging trees, and the Shienarans who had been hauling on the rope mounted their horses, except for two Ingtar told to take the ferry back over for the others. The rest followed Ingtar up the bank.
"Fifty paces to a big stoneoak," Ingtar said as they rode into the trees. He sounded too matter-of-fact. If Ragan could not speak of it . . . . Some of the soldiers eased the swords on their backs, and held their lances ready.
At first Rand thought the figures hanging by their arms from the thick gray limbs of the stoneoak were scarecrows. Crimson94 scarecrows. Then he recognized the two faces. Changu, and the other man who had been on guard with him. Nidao. Eyes staring, teeth bared in a rictus of pain. They had lived a long time after it began.
Perrin made a sound in his throat, nearly a growl19.
"As bad as ever I've seen, my Lord," Hurin said faintly. "As bad as ever I've smelled, excepting the dungeon95 at Fal Dara that night."
Frantically96 Rand sought the void. The flame seemed to get in the way, the queasy97 light fluttering in time with his convulsive swallows, but he pushed on until he had wrapped himself in emptiness. The queasiness98 pulsed in the void with him, though. Not outside, for once, but inside. No wonder, looking at this. The thought skittered across the void like a drop of water on a hot griddle. What happened to them?
"Skinned alive," he heard someone behind him say, and the sounds of somebody else retching. He thought it was Mat, but it was all far away from him, inside the void. But that nauseous flickering99 was in there, too. He thought he might throw up himself.
"Cut them down," Ingtar said harshly. He hesitated a moment, then added, "Bury them. We cannot be sure they were Darkfriends. They could have been taken prisoner. They could have been. Let them know the last embrace of the mother, at least." Men rode forward gingerly with knives; even for battle-hardened Shienarans it was no easy task, cutting down the flayed100 corpses101 of men they knew.
"Are you all right, Rand?" Ingtar said. "I am not used to this either."
"I . . . am all right, Ingtar." Rand let the void vanish. He felt less sick without it; his stomach still curdled102, but it was better. Ingtar nodded and turned his horse so he could watch the men working.
The burial was simple. Two holes dug in the ground, and the bodies laid in as the rest of the Shienarans watched in silence. The grave diggers began shoveling earth into the graves with no more ado.
Rand was shocked, but Loial explained softly. "Shienarans believe we all came from earth, and must return to earth. They never use coffins103 or shrouds104, and the bodies are never clothed. The earth must hold the body. The last embrace of the mother, they call it. And there are never any words except `The Light shine on you, and the Creator shelter you. The last embrace of the mother welcome you home."' Loial sighed and shook his huge head. "I do not think anyone will say them this time. No matter what Ingtar says, Rand, there cannot be much doubt that Changu and Nidao slew105 the guards at the Dog Gate and let the Darkfriends into the keep. It had to be they who were responsible for all of it."
"Then who shot the arrow at - at the Amyrlin?" Rand swallowed. Who shot at me? Loial said nothing.
Uno arrived with the rest of the men and the packhorses as the last earth was being shoveled onto the graves. Someone told him what they had found, and the one-eyed man spat106. "Goat-kissing Trollocs do that along the Blight, sometimes. When they want to shake your bloody nerve, or flaming warn you not to follow. Burn me if it works here, either."
Before they rode away, Ingtar paused on his horse beside the unmarked graves, two mounds107 of bare earth that looked too small to hold men. After a moment he said, "The Light shine on you, and the Creator shelter you. The last embrace of the mother welcome you home." When he raised his head, he looked at each man in turn. There was no expression on any face, least of all on Ingtar's. "They saved Lord Agelmar at Tarwin's Gap," he said. Several of the lancers nodded. Ingtar turned his horse. "Which way, Hurin?"
"South, my Lord."
"Take the trail! We hunt!"
The forest soon gave way to gently rolling flatland, sometimes crossed by a shallow stream that had dug itself a high-banked channel, with never more than a low rise or a squat109 hill that barely deserved the name. Perfect country for the horses. Ingtar took advantage of it, setting a steady, ground-covering pace. Occasionally Rand saw what might have been a farmhouse110 in the distance, and once what he thought was a village, with smoke rising from chimneys a few miles off and something flashing white in the sun, but the land near them stayed empty of human life, long swathes of grass dotted with brush and occasional trees, with now and again a small thicket111, never more than a hundred paces across.
Ingtar put out scouts, two men riding ahead, in sight only when they topped an occasional rise. He had a silver whistle hanging around his neck to call them back if Hurin said the trail had veered112, but it did not. South. Always south.
"We will reach the field of Talidar in three or four days at this rate," Ingtar said as they rode. "Artur Hawkwing's greatest single victory, when the Halfmen led the Trollocs out of the Blight against him. Six days and nights, it lasted, and when it was done, the Trollocs fled back into the Blight and never dared challenge him again. He raised a monument there to his victory, a spire40 a hundred spans high. He would not let them put his own name on it, but rather the names of every man who fell, and a golden sun at the top, symbol that there the Light had triumphed over the Shadow."
"I would like to see that," Loial said. "I have never heard of this monument. "
Ingtar was silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was quiet. "It is not there any longer, Builder. When Hawkwing died, the ones who fought over his empire could not bear to leave a monument to a victory of his, even if it did not mention his name. There's nothing left but the mound108 where it stood. In three or four days we can see that, at least." His tone did not allow much conversation afterwards.
With the sun hanging golden overhead, they passed a structure, square and made of plastered brick, less than a mile from their path. It was not tall, no more than two stories still standing113 anywhere he saw, but it covered a good hide of ground. An air of long abandonment hung about it, roofs gone except for a few stretches of dark tile clinging to bits of rafter, most of the once-white plaster fallen to bare the dark, weathered brick beneath, walls fallen to show courtyards and decaying chambers114 inside. Brush, and even trees, grew in the cracks of what had once been courtyards.
"A manor115 house," Ingtar explained. The little humor he had regained116 seemed to fade as he looked at the structure. "When Harad Dakar still stood, I expect the manorman farmed this land for a league around. Orchards117, maybe. The Hardani loved their orchards."
"Harad Dakar?" Rand said, and Ingtar snorted.
"Does no one learn history any longer? Harad Dakar, the capital city of Hardan, which nation this once was that we are riding across."
"I've seen an old map," Rand replied in a tight voice. "I know about the nations that aren't there anymore. Maredo, and Goaban, and Carralain. But there wasn't any Hardan on it."
"There were once others that are gone now, too," Loial said. "Mar34 Haddon, which is now Haddon Mirk, and Almoth. Kintara. The War of the Hundred Years cut Artur Hawkwing's empire into many nations, large and small. The small were gobbled up by the large, or else united, like Altara and Murandy. Forced together would be a better word than united, I suppose."
"So what happened to them?" Mat demanded. Rand had not noticed Perrin and Mat ride up to join them. They had been at the rear, as far from Rand al'Thor as they could get, the last he had seen.
"They could not hold together," the Ogier replied. "Crops failed, or trade failed. People failed. Something failed in each case, and the nation dwindled118. Often neighboring countries absorbed the land, when the nations were gone, but they never lasted, those annexations119. In time, the land truly was abandoned. Some villages hang on here and there, but mostly they have all gone to wilderness120. It is nearly three hundred years since Harad Dakar was finally abandoned, but even before that it was a shell, with a king who could not control what happened inside the city walls. Harad Dakar itself is completely gone now, I understand. All the towns and cities of Hardan are gone, the stone carted away by farmers and villagers for their own use. Most of the farms and villages made with it are gone, too. So I read, and I've seen nothing to change it."
"It was quite a quarry, Harad Dakar, for almost a hundred years," Ingtar said bitterly. "The people left, finally, and then the city was hauled away, stone by stone. All faded away, and what has not gone is fading. Everything, everywhere, fading. There is hardly a nation that truly controls the land it claims on a map, and there is hardly a land that claims today on a map what it did even a hundred years ago. When the War of the Hundred Years ended, a man rode from one nation into another without end from the Blight to the Sea of Storms. Now we can ride through wilderness claimed by no nation for almost the whole of the land. We in the Borderlands have our battle with the Blight to keep us strong, and whole. Perhaps they did not have what they needed to keep them strong. You say they failed, Builder? Yes, they failed, and what nation standing whole today will fail tomorrow? We are being swept away, humankind. Swept away like flotsam on a flood. How long until there is nothing left but the Borderlands? How long before we, too, go under, and there is nothing left but Trollocs and Myrddraal all the way to the Sea of Storms?"
There was a shocked silence. Not even Mat broke it. Ingtar rode lost in his own dark thoughts.
After a time the scouts came galloping back, straight in the saddles, lances erect against the sky. "A village ahead, my Lord. We were not seen, but it lies directly in our line of march."
Ingtar shook himself out of his brown study, but did not speak until they had reached the crest121 of a low ridge122 looking down on the village, and then it was only to command a halt while he dug a looking glass from his saddlebags and raised it to peer at the village.
Rand studied the village with interest. It was as big as Emond's Field, though that was not very big compared to some of the towns he had seen since leaving the Two Rivers, much less the cities. The houses were all low and plastered with white clay, and they appeared to have grass growing on sloping roofs. A dozen windmills, scattered123 through the village, turned lazily, their long, cloth-covered arms flashing white in the sun. A low wall encircled the village, grassy124 dirt and chest high, and outside that was a wide ditch with sharpened stakes thick in the bottom. There was no gate in the one opening he could see in the wall, but he supposed it could be blocked easily enough with a cart or wagon125. He could not see any people.
"Not even a dog in sight," Ingtar said, returning the looking glass to his saddlebags. "Are you sure they did not see you?" he asked the scouts.
"Not unless they have the Dark One's own luck, my Lord," one of the men replied. "We never crested126 the rise. We didn't see anyone moving then either, my Lord."
Ingtar nodded. "The trail, Hurin?"
Hurin drew a deep breath. "Toward the village, my Lord. Straight to it, as near as I can tell from here."
"Watch sharp," Ingtar commanded, gathering127 his reins128. "And do not believe that they're friendly just because they smile. If there is anyone there." He led them down toward the village at a slow walk, and reached up to loosen his sword in its scabbard.
Rand heard the sounds of others behind him doing the same. After a moment, he eased his, too. Trying to stay alive was not the same as trying to be a hero, he decided.
"You think these people would help Darkfriends?" Perrin asked Ingtar. The Shienaran was slow in answering.
"They have no great love for Shienarans," he said finally. "They think we should protect them. Us, or the Cairhienin. Cairhien did claim this land, once the last King of Hardan died. All the way to the Erinin, they claimed it. They could not hold it, though. They gave up the claim nearly a hundred years ago. The few people who still live here don't have to worry about Trollocs this far south, but there are plenty of human brigands129. That's why they have the wall, and the ditch. All their villages do. Their fields will be hidden in hollows around here, but no one will live outside the wall. They would swear fealty130 to any king who would give them his protection, but we have all we can do against the Trollocs. They do not love us for it, though." As they reached the opening in the low wall, he added again, "Watch sharp!"
All the streets led toward a village square, but there was no one in the streets, no one peering from a window. Not even a dog moved, not so much as a chicken. Nothing living. Open doors swung, creaking in the wired, counterpoint to the rhythmic131 squeak132 of the windmills. The horses' hooves sounded loud on the packed dirt of the street.
"Like at the ferry," Hurin muttered, "but different." He rode hunched133 in his saddle, head down as if he were trying to hide behind his own shoulders. "Violence done, but . . . I don't know. It was bad here. It smells bad."
"Uno," Ingtar said, "take one file and search the houses. If you find anyone, bring them to me in the square. Do not frighten them this time, though. I want answers, not people running for their lives." He led the other soldiers toward the center of the village as Uno got his ten dismounted.
Rand hesitated, looking around. The creaking doors, the squealing134 windmills, the horses' hooves, all made too much noise, as if there were not another sound in the world. He scanned the houses. The curtains in an open window beat against the outside of the house. They all seemed lifeless. With a sigh he got down and walked to the nearest house, then stopped, staring at the door.
It's just a door. What are you afraid of ? He wished he did not feel as if there was something waiting on the other side. He pushed it open.
Inside was a tidy room. Or had been. The table was set for a meal, ladder-back chairs gathered around, some plates already served. A few flies buzzed above bowls of turnips and peas, and more crawled on a cold roast sitting in its own congealed135 grease. There was a slice half carved from the roast, the fork still standing stuck in the meat and the carving136 knife lying partway in the platter as if dropped. Rand stepped inside.
Blink.
A smiling, bald-headed man in rough clothes laid a slice of meat on a plate held by a woman with a worn face. She was smiling, too, though. She added peas and turnips to the plate and passed it to one of the children lining137 the table. There were half a dozen children, boys and girls, from nearly grown down to barely tall enough to look over the table. The woman said something, and the girl taking the plate from her laughed. The man started to cut another slice.
Suddenly another girl screamed, pointing at the door to the street. The man dropped the carving knife and whirled, then he screamed, too, face tight with horror, and snatched up a child. The woman grabbed another, and motioned desperately138 to the others, her mouth working frantically, silently. They all scrabbled toward a door in the back of the room.
That door burst open, and -
Blink.
Rand could not move. The flies buzzing over the table sounded louder. His breath made a cloud in front of his mouth.
Blink.
A smiling, bald-headed man in rough clothes laid a slice of meat on a plate held by a woman with a worn face. She was smiling, too, though. She added peas and turnips to the plate and passed it to one of the children lining the table. There were half a dozen children, boys and girls, from nearly grown down to barely tall enough to look over the table. The woman said something, and the girl taking the plate from her laughed. The man started to cut another slice.
Suddenly another girl screamed, pointing at the door to the street. The man dropped the carving knife and whirled, then he screamed, too, face tight with horror, and snatched up a child. The woman grabbed another, and motioned desperately to the others, her mouth working frantically, silently. They all scrabbled toward the door in the back of the room.
That door burst open, and -
Blink.
Rand struggled, but his muscles seemed frozen. The room was colder; he wanted to shiver, but he could not move even that much. Flies crawled all over the table. He groped for the void. The sour light was there, but he did not care. He had to-
Blink.
A smiling, bald-headed man in rough clothes laid a slice of meat on a plate held by a woman with a worn face. She was smiling, too, though. She added peas and turnips to the plate and passed it to one of the children lining the table. There were half a dozen children, boys and girls, from nearly grown down to barely tall enough to look over the table. The woman said something, and the girl taking the plate from her laughed. The man started to cut another slice.
Suddenly another girl screamed, pointing at the door to the street. The man dropped the carving knife and whirled, then he screamed, too, face tight with horror, and snatched up a child. The woman grabbed another, and motioned desperately to the others, her mouth working frantically, silently. They all scrabbled toward a door in the back of the room.
That door burst open, and -
Blink.
The room was freezing. So cold. Flies blackened the table; the walls were a shifting mass of flies, the floor, the ceiling, all black with them. They crawled on Rand, covering him, crawled over his face, his eyes, into his nose, his mouth. Light, help me. Cold. The flies buzzed like thunder. Cold. It penetrated139 the void, mocking the emptiness, encasing him in ice. Desperately he reached for the flickering light. His stomach twisted, but the light was warm. Warm. Hot. He was hot.
Suddenly he was tearing at . . . something. He did not know what, or how. Cobwebs made of steel. Moonbeams carved from stone. They crumbled140 at his touch, but he knew he had not touched anything. They shriveled and melted with the heat that surged through him, heat like a forge fire, heat like the world burning, heat like-
It was gone. Panting, he looked around with wide eyes. A few flies lay on the half-carved roast, in the platter. Dead flies. Six flies. Only six. There were more in the bowls, half a dozen tiny black specks141 among the cold vegetables. All dead. He staggered out into the street.
Mat was just coming out of a house across the street, shaking his head. "Nobody there," he told Perrin, still on his horse. "It looks like they just got up in the middle of supper and walked away."
A shout came from the square.
"They've found something," Perrin said, digging his heels into his horse's flanks. Mat scrambled into his saddle and galloped after him.
Rand. mounted Red more slowly; the stallion shied as if feeling his unease. He glanced at the houses as he rode slowly toward the square, but he could not make himself look at them for long. Mat went in one, and nothing happened to him. He resolved not to set foot inside another house in that village no matter what. Booting Red, he quickened his pace.
Everyone was standing like statues in front of a large building with wide double doors. Rand did not think it could be an inn; there was no sign, for one thing. Perhaps a village meeting place. He joined the silent circle, and stared along with the rest.
There was a man spread-eagled across the doors with thick spikes142 through wrists and shoulders. More spikes had been driven into his eyes to hold his head up. Dark, dried blood made fans down his cheeks. Scuff143 marks on the wood behind his boots showed that he had been alive when it was done. When it began, anyway.
Rand's breath caught. Not a man. Those black clothes, blacker than black, had never been worn by any human. The wind flapped an end of the cloak caught behind the body - which it did not always, he knew too well; the wind did not always touch those clothes-but there had never been any eyes in that pale, bloodless face.
"Myrddraal," he breathed, and it was as if his speaking released all the others. They began to move again, and breathe.
"Who," Mat began, and had to stop to swallow. "Who could do this to a Fade?" His voice squeaked144 at the end.
"I don't know," Ingtar said. "I do not know." He looked around, examining faces, or perhaps counting to be sure everyone was there. "And I do not think we will learn anything here. We ride. Mount! Hurin, find the trail out of this place."
"Yes, my Lord. Yes. With pleasure. That way, my Lord. They're still heading south."
They rode away leaving the dead Myrddraal where it hung, the wind stirring its black cloak. Hurin was first beyond the wall, not waiting on Ingtar for a change, but Rand came close behind him.
收听单词发音 |
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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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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hoofed
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| adj.有蹄的，蹄形状的，装蹄的v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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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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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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sheathed
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| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
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rued
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| v.对…感到后悔( rue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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turnips
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| 芜青( turnip的名词复数 )； 芜菁块根； 芜菁甘蓝块根； 怀表 | |
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overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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cuffed
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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shoveled
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| vt.铲，铲出（shovel的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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bloodied
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| v.血污的( bloody的过去式和过去分词 )；流血的；屠杀的；残忍的 | |
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shimmers
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| n.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的名词复数 )v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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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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trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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51
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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55
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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56
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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57
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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58
bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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59
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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60
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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61
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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62
fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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63
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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64
bards
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| n.诗人( bard的名词复数 ) | |
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65
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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66
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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67
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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68
barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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69
snugged
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| v.整洁的( snug的过去式和过去分词 )；温暖而舒适的；非常舒适的；紧身的 | |
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70
dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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71
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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72
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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73
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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74
thumps
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| n.猪肺病；砰的重击声( thump的名词复数 )v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的第三人称单数 ) | |
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75
clatters
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| 盘碟刀叉等相撞击时的声音( clatter的名词复数 ) | |
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76
frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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77
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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78
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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79
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
scouted
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| 寻找，侦察( scout的过去式和过去分词 )； 物色（优秀运动员、演员、音乐家等） | |
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81
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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82
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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83
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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85
daggers
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| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
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86
butted
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| 对接的 | |
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87
untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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88
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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90
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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91
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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93
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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94
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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95
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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96
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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97
queasy
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| adj.易呕的 | |
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98
queasiness
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| n.恶心 | |
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99
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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100
flayed
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| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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101
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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102
curdled
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| v.（使）凝结( curdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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104
shrouds
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| n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 )；寿衣；遮蔽物；覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 )；保密 | |
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105
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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106
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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107
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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108
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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109
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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110
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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111
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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112
veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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113
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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114
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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115
manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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116
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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117
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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118
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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119
annexations
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| n.并吞，附加，附加物( annexation的名词复数 ) | |
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120
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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121
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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122
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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123
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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124
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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125
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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126
crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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127
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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128
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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129
brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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130
fealty
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| n.忠贞，忠节 | |
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131
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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132
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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133
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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134
squealing
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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135
congealed
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| v.使凝结，冻结( congeal的过去式和过去分词 )；（指血）凝结 | |
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136
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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137
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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138
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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139
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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140
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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141
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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142
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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143
scuff
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| v. 拖着脚走；磨损 | |
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144
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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