For once, Ingtar called a halt to the day's march with the sun still golden above the horizon. The toughened Shienarans were feeling the effects of what they had seen in the village. Ingtar had not stopped so early before, and the campsite he chose had the look of a place that could be defended. It was a deep hollow, almost round, and big enough to hold all the men and horses comfortably. A sparse2 thicket3 of scrub oak and leatherleaf covered the outer slopes. The rim4 itself stood more than high enough to hide anyone in the campsite even without the trees. The height nearly passed for a hill, in that country.
"All I'm bloody5 saying," he heard Uno tell Ragan as they dismounted, "is that I bloody saw her, burn you. Just before we found the goat-kissing Halfman. The same flaming woman as at the flaming ferry. She was there, and then she bloody wasn't. You say what you bloody want to, but you watch how you flaming say it, or I'll bloody skin you myself, and burn the goat-kissing hide, you sheep-gutted milk-drinker."
Rand paused with one foot on the ground and the other still in the stirrup. The same woman? But there wasn't any woman at the ferry, just some curtains blowing in the wind. And she couldn't have gotten to that village ahead of us if there had been. The village . . . .
He shied away from the thought. Even more than the Fade nailed to the door, he wanted to forget that room, and the flies, and the people who were there and not there. The Halfman had been real - everybody had seen that - but the room . . . . Maybe I'm finally going mad. He wished Moiraine was there to talk to. Wishing for an Aes Sedai. You are a fool. You're well out of that, now stay out. But am I out? What happened there?
"Packhorses and supplies in the middle," Ingtar commanded as the lancers went about setting up camp. "Rub the horses down, then saddle them again in case we must move quickly. Every man sleeps by his mount, and there'll be no fires tonight. Watch changes every two hours. Uno, I want scouts6 out, as far as they can ride and return before dark. I want to know what is out there."
He's feeling it, Rand thought. It isn't just some Darkfriends and a few Trollocs and maybe a Fade anymore. Just some Darkfriends and a few Trollocs, and maybe a Fade! Even a few days before there would not have been any "just" about it. Even in the Borderlands, even with the Blight7 less than a day's ride, Darkfriends and Trollocs and Myrddraal had been bad enough for a nightmare, then. Before he had seen a Myrddraal nailed to a door. What in the Light could have done that? What not in the Light? Before he had walked into a room where a family had had their supper and their laughter cut off. I must have imagined it. I must have. Even in his own head he did not sound very convincing. He had not imagined the wind on the tower top, or the Amyrlin saying-
"Rand?" He jumped as Ingtar spoke8 at his shoulder. "Are you going to stay all night with one foot in the stirrup?"
Rand put his other foot on the ground. "Ingtar, what happened back at that village?"
"Trollocs took them. The same as the people at the ferry. That is what happened. The Fade. . . ." Ingtar shrugged9 and stared down at a flat, canvas-wrapped bundle, large and square, in his arms; he stared at - it as if he saw hidden secrets he would rather not know. "The Trollocs took them for food. They do it in villages and farms near the Blight, too, sometimes, if a raid gets past the border towers in the night. Sometimes we get the people back, and sometimes not. Sometimes we get them back and almost wish we hadn't. Trollocs don't always kill before they start butchering. And Halfmen like to have their . . . fun. That's worse than what the Trollocs do." His voice was as steady as if he were talking of every day, and perhaps he was, for a Shienaran soldier.
Rand took a deep breath to steady his stomach. "The Fade back there didn't have any fun, Ingtar. What could nail a Myrddraal to a door, alive?"
Ingtar hesitated, shaking his head, then pushed the big bundle at Rand. "Here. Moiraine Sedai told me to give you this at the first camp south of the Erinin. I don't know what is in it, but she said you would need it. She said to tell you to take care of it; your life may depend on it."
Rand took it reluctantly; his skin prickled at the touch of the canvas. There was something soft inside. Cloth, maybe. He held it gingerly. He doesn't want to think about the Myrddraal either. What happened in that room? He realized suddenly that for him, the Fade, or even that room, was preferable to thinking about what Moiraine might have sent him.
"I was told to tell you at the same time that if anything happens to me, the lances will follow you."
"Me!" Rand gasped11, forgetting the bundle and everything else. Ingtar met his incredulous stare with a calm nod. "That's crazy! I've never led anything but a flock of sheep, Ingtar. They would not follow me anyway. Besides, Moiraine can't tell you who your second is. It's Uno."
"Uno and I were called to Lord Agelmar the morning we left. Moiraine Sedai was there, but it was Lord Agelmar who told me. You are second, Rand. "
"But why, Ingtar? Why?" Moiraine's hand was bright and clear in it, hers and the Amyrlin's, pushing him along the path they had chosen, but he had to ask.
The Shienaran looked as if he did not understand it either, but he was a soldier, used to odd commands in the endless war along the Blight. "I heard rumors12 from the women's apartments that you were really a . . . . " He spread gauntleted hands. "No matter. I know you deny it. Just as you deny the look of your own face. Moiraine Sedai says you're a shepherd, but I never saw a shepherd with a heron-mark blade. No matter. I'll not claim I would have chosen you myself, but I think you have it in you to do what is needed. You will do your duty, if it comes to it."
Rand wanted to say it was no duty of his, but instead he said, "Uno knows about this. Who else, Ingtar?"
"All the lances. When we Shienarans ride, every man knows who is next in line if the man in command falls. A chain unbroken right down to the last man left, even if he's nothing but a horseholder. That way, you see, even if he is the last man, he is not just a straggler running and trying to stay alive. He has the command, and duty calls him to do what must be done. If I go to the last embrace of the mother, the duty is yours. You will find the Horn, and you will take it where it belongs. You will." There was a peculiar14 emphasis in Ingtar's last words.
The bundle in Rand's arms seemed to weigh ten stone. Light, she could be a hundred leagues off, and she still reaches out and tugs15 the leash16. This way, Rand. That way. You're the Dragon Reborn, Rand. "I don't want the duty, Ingtar. I will not take it. Light, I'm just a shepherd! Why won't anybody believe that?"
"You will do your duty, Rand. When the man at the top of the chain fails, everything below him falls apart. Too much is falling apart. Too much already. Peace favor your sword, Rand al'Thor."
"Ingtar, I - " But Ingtar was walking away, calling to see if Uno had the scouts out yet.
Rand stared at the bundle in his arms and licked his lips. He was afraid he knew what was in it. He wanted to look, yet he wanted to throw it in a fire without opening it; he thought he might, if he could be sure it would burn without anyone seeing what was inside, if he could be sure what was inside would burn at all. But he could not look there, where other eyes than his might see.
He glanced around the camp. The Shienarans were unloading the pack animals, some already handing out a cold supper of dried meat and flatbread. Mat and Perrin tended their horses, and Loial sat on a stone reading a book, with his long-stemmed pipe clenched17 between his teeth and a wisp of smoke curling above his head. Gripping the bundle as if afraid he might drop it, Rand sneaked18 into the trees.
He knelt in a small clearing sheltered by thick-foliaged branches and set the bundle on the ground. For a time he just stared at it. She wouldn't have. She couldn't. A small voice answered, Oh, yes, she could. She could and would. Finally he set about untying19 the small knots in the cords that bound it. Neat knots, tied with a precision that spoke loudly of Moiraine's own hand; no servant had done this for her. She would not have dared let any servant see.
When he had the last cord unfastened, he opened out what was folded inside with hands that felt numb20, then stared at it, his mouth full of dust. It was all of one piece, neither woven, nor dyed, nor painted. A banner, white as snow, big enough to be seen the length of a field of battle. And across it marched a rippling21 figure like a serpent scaled in gold and crimson22, but a serpent with four scaled legs, each tipped with five golden claws, a serpent with eyes like the sun and a golden lion's mane. He had seen it once before, and Moiraine had told him what it was. The banner of Lews Therin Telamon, Lews Therin Kinslayer, in the War of the Shadow. The banner of the Dragon.
"Look at that! Look what he's got, now!" Mat burst into the clearing. Perrin came after him more slowly. "First fancy coats," Mat snarled23, "and now a banner! We'll hear no end of lording it now, with - " Mat got close enough to see the banner clearly, and his jaw24 dropped. "Light!" He stumbled back a step. "Burn me!" He had been there, too, when Moiraine named the banner. So had Perrin.
Anger boiled up in Rand, anger at Moiraine and the Amyrlin Seat, pushing him, pulling him. He snatched up the banner in both hands and shook it at Mat, words boiling out uncontrollably. "That's right! The Dragon's banner!" Mat took another step back. "Moiraine wants me to be a puppet on Tar1 Valon strings25, a false Dragon for the Aes Sedai. She's going to push it down my throat whatever I want. But - I - will - not - be - used!"
Mat had backed up against a tree trunk. "A false Dragon?" He swallowed. "You? That . . . that's crazy."
Perrin had not retreated. He squatted26 down with his thick arms on his knees and studied Rand with those bright golden eyes. In the evening shadows they seemed to shine. "If the Aes Sedai want you for a false Dragon . . . ." He paused, frowning, thinking things through. Finally, he said quietly, "Rand, can you channel?" Mat gave a strangled gasp10.
Rand let the banner drop; he hesitated only a moment before nodding wearily. "I did not ask for it. I don't want it. But. . . . But I do not think I know how to stop it." The room with the flies came back unbidden to his mind. "I don't think they'll let me stop."
"Burn me!" Mat breathed. "Blood and bloody ashes! They'll kill us, you know. All of us. Perrin and me as well as you. If Ingtar and the others find out, they will cut our bloody throats for Darkfriends. Light, they'll probably think we were part of stealing the Horn, and killing27 those people in Fal Dara. "
"Shut up, Mat," Perrin said calmly.
"Don't tell me to shut up. If Ingtar doesn't kill us, Rand will go mad and do it for him. Burn me! Burn me!" Mat slid down the tree to sit on the ground. "Why didn't they gentle you? If the Aes Sedai know, why didn't they gentle you? I never heard of them letting a man who can wield28 the Power just walk away."
"They don't all know," Rand sighed. "The Amyrlin - "
"The Amyrlin Seat! She knows? Light, no wonder she looked at me so strange."
" - and Moiraine told me I'm the Dragon Reborn, and then they said I could go wherever I wanted. Don't you see, Mat? They are trying to use me."
"Doesn't change you being able to channel," Mat muttered. "If I were you, I'd be halfway29 to the Aryth Ocean by now. And I would not stop until I found someplace where there were no Aes Sedai, and never likely to be any. And no people. I mean . . . well. . . ."
"Shut up, Mat," Perrin said. "Why are you here, Rand? The longer you stay around people, the more likely it is somebody will find out and send for Aes Sedai. Aes Sedai who won't tell you to go on about your business." He paused, scratching his head over that. "And Mat's right about Ingtar. I don't doubt he would name you Darkfriend and kill you. Kill all of us, maybe. He seems to like you, but he'd still do it, I think. A false Dragon? So would the others. Masema wouldn't need that much excuse, for you. So why aren't you gone?"
Rand shrugged. "I was going, but first the Amyrlin came, and then the Horn was stolen, and the dagger30, and Moiraine said Mat was dying, and . . . . Light, I thought I could stay with you until we found the dagger, at least; I thought I could help with that. Maybe I was wrong."
"You came because of the dagger?" Mat said quietly. He rubbed his nose and grimaced31. "I never thought of that. I never thought you wanted to . . . Aaaah! Are you feeling all right? I mean, you aren't going mad already, are you?"
Rand dug a pebble32 out of the ground and threw it at him.
"Ouch!" Mat rubbed his arm. "I was just asking. I mean, all those fancy clothes, and all that talk about being a lord. Well, that isn't exactly right in the head."
"I was trying to get rid of you, fool! I was afraid I'd go mad and hurt you." His eyes dropped to the banner, and his voice lowered. "I will, eventually, if I don't stop it. Light, I don't know how to stop it."
"That is what I'm afraid of," Mat said, standing33. "No offense34, Rand, but I think I will just sleep as far away from you as I can, if you don't mind. That's if you are staying. I heard about a fellow who could channel, once. A merchant's guard told me. Before the Red Ajah found him, he woke one morning, and his whole village was smashed flat. All the houses, all the people, everything but the bed he was sleeping in, like a mountain had rolled over them."
Perrin said, "In that case, Mat, you should sleep cheek by jowl with him."
"I may be a fool, but I intend to be a live fool." Mat hesitated, looking sideways at Rand. "Look, I know you came along to help me, and I am grateful. I really am. But you just are not the same anymore. You understand that, don't you?" He waited as if he expected an answer. None came. Finally he vanished into the trees, back toward the camp.
"What about you?" Rand asked.
Perrin shook his head, shaggy curls swinging. "I don't know, Rand. You are the same, but then again, you aren't. A man channeling; my mother used to frighten me with that, when I was little. I just do not know." He stretched out his hand and touched a corner of the banner. "I think I would burn this, or bury it, if I were you. Then I'd run so far, so fast, no Aes Sedai would ever find me. Mat was right about that." He stood up, squinting35 at the western sky, beginning to turn red with the sinking sun. "Time to get back to the camp. You think on what I said, Rand. I'd run. But maybe you can't run. Think of that, too." His yellow eyes seemed to look inward, and he sounded tired. "Sometimes you can't run." Then he was gone, too.
Rand knelt there, staring at the banner spread out on the ground. "Well, sometimes you can run," he muttered. "Only, maybe she gave me this to make me run. Maybe she has something waiting for me, if I run. I won't do what she wants. I won't. I'll bury it right here. But she said my life may depend on it, and Aes Sedai never lie so you can see it . . . .
Suddenly his shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Now I'm talking to myself. Maybe I am going mad already."
When he returned to the camp, he carried the banner wrapped in the canvas once more, tied with knots less neat than Moiraine's had been.
The light had begun to fail and the shadow of the rim covered half the hollow. The soldiers were settling in, all with their horses by their sides, lances propped36 to hand. Mat and Perrin were bedding down alongside their horses. Rand gave them a sad look, then fetched Red, standing where he had been left with his reins37 dangling38, and went to the other side of the hollow, where Hurin had joined Loial. The Ogier had given over reading and was examining the half-buried stone on which he had been sitting, tracing something on the stone with the long stem of his pipe.
Hurin stood and gave Rand something just short of a bow. "Hope you don't mind me making my bed here, Lord - uh - Rand. I was just listening to the Builder here."
"There you are, Rand," Loial said. "You know, I think this stone was worked once. See, it's weathered, but it looks as if it was a column of some kind. And there are markings, also. I can't quite make them out, but they look familiar, somehow."
"Maybe you'll be able to see them better in the morning," Rand said. He pulled the saddlebags from Red. "I'll be glad of your company, Hurin." I'm glad of anybody's company who isn't afraid of me. How much longer can I have it, though?
He shifted everything into one side of the saddlebags-spare shirts and breeches and woolen39 stockings, sewing kit40, tinder box, tin plate and cup, a greenwood box with knife and fork and spoon, a packet of dried meat and flatbread for emergency rations41, and all the other traveler's necessaries - then stuffed the canvas-wrapped banner into the empty pocket. It bulged42, the straps43 barely reaching the buckles44, but then, the other side bulged now, too. It would do.
Loial and Hurin seemed to sense his mood, leaving him in silence while he stripped saddle and bridle45 from Red, rubbed the big bay down with tufts of grass torn from the ground, then resaddled him. Rand refused their offer of food; he did not think he could have stomached the best meal he had ever seen just then. All three of them made their beds there beside the stone, a simple matter of a blanket folded for a pillow and cloak to cover.
The camp was silent now, but Rand lay awake past the fall of full dark. His mind darted46 back and forth47. The banner. What is she trying to make me do? The village. What could kill a Fade like that? Worst of all, the house in the village. Did it really happen? Am I going mad already? Do I run, or do I stay? I have to stay. I have to help Mat find the dagger.
An exhausted48 sleep finally came, and with sleep, unbidden, the void surrounded him, flickering49 with an uneasy glow that disturbed his dreams.
Padan Fain stared northward50 out into the night, past the only fire in his camp, smiling a fixed51 smile that never touched his eyes. He still thought of himself as Padan Fain - Padan Fain was the core of him - but he had been changed, and he knew it. He knew many things, now, more than any of his old masters could suspect. He had been a Darkfriend long years before Ba'alzamon summoned him and set him on the track of the three young men from Emond's Field, distilling52 what he knew of them, distilling him, and feeding the essence back so that he could feel them, smell where they had been, follow wherever they ran. Especially the one. A part of him still cringed, remembering what Ba'alzamon had done to him, but it was a small part, hidden, suppressed. He was changed. Following the three had led him into Shadar Logoth. He had not wanted to go, but he had had to obey. Then. And in Shadar Logoth . . . .
Fain drew a deep breath and fingered the ruby-hilted dagger at his belt. That had come from Shadar Logoth, too. It was the only weapon he carried, the only one he needed; it felt like a part of him. He was whole within himself, now. That was all that mattered.
He cast a glance to either side of his fire. The twelve Darkfriends who were left, their once-fine clothes now rumpled53 and dirty, huddled54 in the darkness to one side, staring not at the fire, but at him. On the other squatted his Trollocs, twenty in number, the all-too-human eyes in those animal-twisted men's faces following his every move like mice watching a cat.
It had been a struggle at first, waking each morning to find himself not completely whole, to find the Myrddraal back in command, raging and demanding they go north, to the Blight, to Shayol Ghul. But bit by bit those mornings of weakness grew shorter, until . . . . He remembered the feel of the hammer in his hand, driving the spikes55 in, and he smiled; this time it did touch his eyes, with the joy of sweet memory.
Weeping from the dark caught his ear, and his smile faded. I should never have let the Trollocs take so many. An entire village to slow them down. If those few houses at the ferry had not been deserted56, perhaps . . . . But Trollocs were greedy by nature, and in the euphoria of watching the Myrddraal die, he had not paid attention as he should.
He glanced at the Trollocs. Any one of them was nearly twice as tall as he, strong enough to break him to flinders with one hand, yet they edged back, still crouching57. "Kill them. All. You may feed, but then make a pile of everything that remains-for our friends to find. Put the heads on top. Neatly58, now." He laughed, and cut it off short. "Go!"
The Trollocs scrambled59 away, drawing scythe-like swords and raising spiked60 axes. In moments shrieks61 and bellows62 rose from where the villagers were bound. Pleas for mercy and children's screams were cut off by solid thuds and unpleasant squishing noises, like melons being broken.
Fain turned his back on the cacophony63 to look at his Darkfriends. They were his, too, body and soul. Such souls as they had left. Every one of them was mired64 as deeply as he had been, before he found his way out. Every one with nowhere to go except to follow him. Their eyes clung to him, fearful, pleading. "You think they will grow hungry again before we find another village or a farm? They may. You think I will be letting them have some more of you? Well, perhaps one or two. There aren't any more horses to spare."
"The others were only commoners," one woman managed in an unsteady voice. Dirt streaked65 her face above a finely cut dress that marked her as a merchant, and wealthy. Smears66 stained the good gray cloth, and a long tear marred67 her skirt. "They were peasants. We have served - I have served - "
Fain cut her off, his easy tone making his words all the harder. "What are you, to me? Less than peasants. Herd13 cattle for the Trollocs, perhaps? If you want to live, cattle, you must be useful."
The woman's face broke. She sobbed68, and suddenly all the rest were babbling69, telling him how useful they were, men and women who had had influence and position before they were called to fulfill70 their oaths at Fal Dara. They spilled out the names of important, powerful people whom they knew in the Borderlands, in Cairhien, and other lands. They babbled71 of the knowledge they alone had of this land or that, of political situations, alliances, intrigues72, all the things they could tell him if he let them serve him. The noise of them blended with the sounds of the Trollocs' slaughter73 and fit right in.
Fain ignored all of it - he had no fear of turning his back on them, not since they had seen the Fade dealt with - and went to his prize. Kneeling, he ran his hands over the ornate, golden chest, feeling the power locked inside. He had to have a Trolloc carry it - he did not trust the humans enough to load it on a horse and packsaddle; some dreams of power might be strong enough to overcome even fear of him, but Trollocs never dreamed of anything except killing - and he had not yet puzzled out how to open it. But that would come. Everything would come. Everything.
Unsheathing the dagger, he laid it atop the chest before settling himself down beside the fire. That blade was a better guard than Trolloc or human. They had all seen what happened when he used it, once; none would come within a span of that bared blade without his command, and then reluctantly.
Lying there in his blankets, he stared northward. He could not feel al'Thor, now; the distance between them was too great. Or perhaps al'Thor was doing his vanishing trick. Sometimes, in the keep, the boy had suddenly vanished from Fain's senses. He did not know how, but always al'Thor came back, just as suddenly as he had gone. He would come back this time, too.
"This time you come to me, Rand al'Thor. Before, I followed you like a dog driven on the trail, but now you follow me." His laughter was a cackle that even he knew was mad, but he did not care. Madness was a part of him, too. "Come to me, al'Thor. The dance is not even begun yet. We'll dance on Toman Head, and I'll be free of you. I'll see you dead at last."
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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sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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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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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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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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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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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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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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peculiar
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tugs
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leash
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| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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untying
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numb
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rippling
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crimson
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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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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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strings
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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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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wield
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| vt.行使，运用，支配；挥，使用(武器等) | |
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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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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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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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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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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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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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38
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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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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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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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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distilling
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| n.蒸馏（作用）v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )( distilled的过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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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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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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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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spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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bellows
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| n.风箱；发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的名词复数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的第三人称单数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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cacophony
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| n.刺耳的声音 | |
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mired
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| abbr.microreciprocal degree 迈尔德（色温单位）v.深陷( mire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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smears
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| 污迹( smear的名词复数 )； 污斑； （显微镜的）涂片； 诽谤 | |
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marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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69
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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fulfill
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| vt.履行，实现，完成；满足，使满意 | |
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babbled
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| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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72
intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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