THE SUBTLE KNIFE 精彩片段：
CHAPTER FIFTEEN： BLOODMOSS-2
He cried out with shock and twisted away at once, but the grip was tenacious. And Will was savage now. He felt he was at the very end of everything; and if it was the end of his life, too, he was going to fight and fight till he fell.
So he twisted and kicked and twisted again, but that hand wouldnt let go; and since it was his right arm being held, he couldnt get at the knife. He tried with his left, but he was being jerked around so much, and his hand was so painful and swollen, that he couldnt reach; he had to fight with one bare, wounded hand against a grown man.
He sank his teeth into the hand on his forearm, but all that happened was that the man landed a dizzying blow on the back of his head. Then Will kicked again and again, and some of the kicks connected and some didnt, and all the time he was pulling, jerking, twisting, shoving, and still the grip held him fast.
Dimly he heard his own panting and the mans grunts and harsh breathing; and then by chance he got his leg behind the mans and hurled himself against his chest, and the man fell with Will on top of him, heavily. But never for a moment did that grip slacken, and Will, rolling around violently on the stony ground, felt a heavy fear tighten around his heart: this man would never let him go, and even if he killed him, his corpse would still be holding fast.
But Will was weakening, and now he was crying, too, sobbing bitterly as he kicked and tugged and beat at the man with his head and feet, and he knew his muscles would give up soon. And then he noticed that the man had fallen still, though his hand still gripped as tight as ever. He was lying there letting Will batter at him with knees and head; and as soon as Will saw that, the last of his strength left him, and he fell helpless beside his opponent, every nerve in his body ringing and dizzy and throbbing.
Will hauled himself up painfully, peered through the deep darkness, and made out a blur of white on the ground beside the man. It was the white breast and head of a great bird, an osprey, a daemon, and it was lying still. Will tried to pull away, and his feeble tug woke a response from the man, whose hand hadnt loosened.
But he was moving. He was feeling Wills right hand carefully with his free one. Wills hair stood on end.
Then the man said, "Give me your other hand."
"Be careful," said Will.
The mans free hand felt down Wills left arm, and his fingertips moved gently over the wrist and on to the swollen palm and with the utmost delicacy on to the stumps of Wills two lost fingers.
His other hand let go at once, and he sat up.
"Youve got the knife," he said. "Youre the knife bearer."
His voice was resonant, harsh, but breathless. Will sensed that he was badly hurt. Had he wounded this dark opponent?
Will was still lying on the stones, utterly spent. All he could see was the mans shape, crouching above him, but he couldnt see his face. The man was reaching sideways for something, and after a few moments a marvelous soothing coolness spread into his hand from the stumps of his fingers as the man massaged a salve into his skin.