História ambientada no Oriente Médio envolvendo demônios, feitiçaria e alguém sugeriu ser Gilgamesh

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Eu li essa história no último ano (2017). Vou vasculhar o histórico da minha biblioteca para ver se alguma lembrança está acesa, mas também é possível que eu tenha lido isso on-line. A parte que eu me lembro tem um rico comerciante do Oriente Médio na Idade Média (acho que As Cruzadas foram um pano de fundo) sendo abordado pelo governante (o "Xá"?) Sobre uma posição no governo. Essa posição envolve manter o controle da magia no reino, que é heresia (antitético ao Islã), mas que é praticado por muitas das tribos e não é incomum que as pessoas façam uso dela. O próprio comerciante viu demônios convocados e teve seu destino determinado pela interpretação dos intestinos.

Então, acho que nos voltamos para um homem, viajando, que se encontra com os outros membros de seu grupo, que são uma sociedade secreta dedicada a manter a justiça e a ordem. Cada um tem um papel particular, de lutar contra furtividade, magia e diplomacia, e carregam um item ou uma tatuagem para estabelecer seus papéis. Eu quero dizer que uma tatuagem de um cervo, uma fechadura e um pedaço enferrujado de ferro estavam entre os símbolos. Eu acredito que eles estão indo para o local de uma das batalhas das Cruzadas, sabendo que o conflito resultará em selos sendo esmagados e demônios sendo desencadeados, intencionalmente ou não.

Outra cena (que pode ter vindo antes da anterior), envolve um cruzado, preso em uma cidade com ghouls. Ele está enterrando os mortos da melhor maneira possível, mas ele é apenas um homem, e ele também tem que lutar contra os ghouls. Tornando as coisas mais difíceis, a presença dos carniçais também fez com que todo o ferro e aço da cidade enfraquecessem e envenenasse a água. Sua espada se curva com o mais simples impulso, embora ele também possa endireitá-lo manualmente. Eu acredito que os ghouls carregavam algum tipo de doença ou veneno, que por alguma razão ele é imune. Ele encontra a sociedade secreta anterior, que reconhece os ghouls pelo que eles são, e faz com que ele os ajude a despachar a bruxa que convocou os poderes das trevas, e agora estava gerando os ghouls. No processo, eles também estabelecem que o ferro na cidade não está enfraquecido, mas sim que o Cruzado é imensamente strong e resistente (basicamente, os níveis do Super-Homem da Era Dourada). Como um deles tem sucumbido (ou está sucumbindo) ao veneno dos carniçais, eles recrutam este Cruzado como um de seus membros.

Em outra cena (acho que fiquei com a impressão de que o autor ficava entediado com um enredo e se mudava para outro), um caçador errante encontra uma família de refugiados que assumiu o acampamento em sua ausência, achando que foi abandonado enquanto ele estava caçando por alguns dias, e ele alegremente decide caminhar com eles por um tempo, embora seus modos rudes entrem em conflito com sua devoção ao Islã. Uma das crianças com o grupo o imprime, insistindo em carregar sua mochila (embora seja grande demais para elas) e eventualmente pedir a ele que se case com elas, e então ele descobre que a criança é uma menina (acho que depois de um comentário irônico ele não achava que sua religião permitia a casais do mesmo sexo) e ele relutantemente permite a possibilidade, mas apenas quando ela termina de servir sua família, imaginando que foi uma paixão passageira. Em algum lugar nesta seção, eles passam por um antigo afloramento de pedra desgastada e ele conta uma história de chefes de centenas de anos como se ele estivesse lá, implicando strongmente que ele era Gilgamesh histórico, e de fato estava lá naquela época. De qualquer forma, ele volta de uma caçada e descobre que a família foi levada por bandidos. Ele encontra os cadáveres da maioria da família, mas a garota que queria se casar com ele aparentemente foi vendida para traficantes de escravos, então ele sai atrás dela, sentindo-se obrigado por sua promessa de casar com ela assim que ela estivesse livre de sua família. / p>

Aqui é onde eu acho que todos os enredos começaram a convergir. A ação remonta ao comerciante de antes, que está tentando negociar a limpeza de um local do mal, um templo. Recebemos dicas de que a garota está entre os cativos que foram trazidos para esse sacrifício ritual. O oficial faz objeção ao sacrifício e fica claro que seu guarda-costas (que eu acredito ser um amigo de longa data) é afiliado ao mesmo grupo que o feiticeiro (eles trocam frases em código), que é o Hashishin , e eles planejam passar pelo ritual se tiverem que passar por cima de seu corpo morto. Com um pouco de raciocínio rápido, ele apaga as luzes e emprega seu antigo passado como um rato de rua para evitá-las por um tempo. Enquanto isso, o personagem de Gilgamesh aparece e se deita nos guardas. Ambos têm sucesso e chegam a uma trégua desconfortável. E eu acho que é quando o grupo de proteção mística aparece e é tudo que eu lembro.

    
por FuzzyBoots 24.10.2017 / 14:21

1 resposta

Alguns dos detalhes da história continuaram a pipocar na minha cabeça e percebi que pareciam familiares. Isso é Peregrino por Lost Demiurge, também conhecido como Andrew Seiple , e é frouxamente ligado ao seu Teslaverse, com o Crusader encalhado sendo, bem, Crusader como em seu Livros de Dire Saga .

He walked to the fire, waited until the others arranged themselves in a loose circle. The words of the lost tongue came to him, the words taught him by his father so long ago. "Aequitas Rex."

"Aequitas Rex Saecula," they chorused back.

"Manifestataurus," he commanded, and watched them reach into various pockets or pouches. For his own part, he pulled the amulet free from under the neck of his tunic, watched the tiny silver key glitter in the firelight. "I am the Key."

Semiha offered up a journal, quill set into a sheath on the front. "I am the Codex."

Sabbas merely raised an arm, spreading his fingers wide. "I am the Hand."

The short frank drew a knife, held it up. "I am the Blade."

A rustle, as the youth drew back his sleeve to show a smooth arm and a tattoo of a leaping deer. "I am the Hart."

And the tall Frank pulled a heavy piece of rusted iron from his belt. "I am the Lock."

"Salutem, Rexi." Arzu said, and they replaced their symbols, as he did his own. An ease had come over the camp, as he'd hoped. The argument was forgotten, in the face of their shared duty. "So. I am Arzu. Semiha and Sabbas are known to me. Who are the rest of you?"

"I am Adalric," the short frank offered. "This is my brother Bertmund. We took the cross and are following Emperor Barbarossa on his holy crusade."

Semiha snorted, and Arzu shot her a cautioning look. For once she held her tongue.

The youth, the Hart, cleared his throat. "I am Khazhak."

There was silence for a bit, and Arzu looked him over. Tanned skin, a firm, beaklike nose... "Armenian?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What do you do?"

"I... hunt."

"Ironic, that," said Bertmund. "A hart who hunts."

....

Like the others, the flesh gave like wax to a heated poker, and it took barely any effort at all to cut through the demon. Something about the steel made it vulnerable, that was his best guess. He cut it in two, then scooped up the thrashing halves and threw them out into the sunlight, ignoring the foul blood that sprayed over him.

Then he burst out into the light, and cast around, and sure enough, there was rustling near the hatch to the mosque's cellar. He started jogging that way, and immediately the rustling retreated.

The sword's bent again, he noted, and straightened it, moulding it like clay. But he was the son of a smith, and he knew that if he kept doing that, it would eventually snap. No matter how witched it was, metal was still metal. He didn't know what he'd do then. The creatures had stolen away the other weapons from his group while he was sleeping. There wasn't even a dinner knife left in the village.

....

Arzu lowered his blade. The Frank tried to sheathe his, couldn't get it to fit in his belt. The blade was so wrecked and bent, that it wouldn't slide in.

With a grimace, the Frank grabbed the blade and twisted it with a careless gesture, and Arzu heard gasps behind him as the blade bent back into shape.

"It's the metal here," the Frank explained. "They've witched it somehow."

Arzu sheathed his sword, took a cautious step forward, held out his hand. "No."

"No?" The Frank's relief turned to caution. "What do you..."

"I will do you no harm. Let me see that."

The Frank measured his face for a long moment, then offered the broken blade, hiltfirst. Arzu traced the marks of fingers pressed into the solid hilt, and nodded. He took the hilt, and carefully extended the blade to Bertmund.

"Bend this."

Bertmund wrapped a gloved hand around it, and tried. Grunts rose from both of them, as Arzu's arm shook, holding the hilt steady. Bertmund finally released it, and Arzu reversed his grip, offered it hiltfirst back to its owner.

"The metal is not witched," he told him. The wind sighed over the hills, as the Frank stood, uncomprehending.

....

Tahir took a deep breath, and stomped up to him, staring up into his eyes. The chubby chin trembled, and the kid brushed at brown curls, face reddening.

"What's wrong?" Gahmess dropped down, to the kid's height.

"I want to marry you!" Tahir blurted out.

Gahmess blinked.

"Ah. Well."

"I can cook!"

"Er."

"Please! I want to go with you and hunt lions and drive chariots and fight giants and-"

"Um. Given how this Allah fellow hates fun I'm pretty sure he frowns on men marrying."

"My name's not Tahir. It's Tahira."

"Which means what?" Gahmess scratched his ear.

"I'm a girl! Dad says I have to dress this way so slavers don't take me! I want to marry you and when I come of age I can bear you lots of sons! Seven or eight I'm sure!"

Gahmess rubbed his face. "Yes. See... you're ten, child. I'm not a Greek. "

"Please! I don't... I don't like it here." Gods, now her lip was quivering. "I don't get to do ANYTHING."

Gahmess sighed, and straightened up again. Maybe it was time to move on, after all. This was going to make things awkward. Still...

"Please don't go," Tahira whispered, and hugged his knees. "I... I want to hear more stories."

He sighed again. So few people did these days, and look at all the mess they were in.

She perked up when he stretched a hand down, and ruffled her hair. "Well," he said, deciding to take the easy way out. "Tell you what. Go ask your parents for permission, and if they say yes, we'll talk about an engagement. I can wait four or five years standing on my head." Not that your mother or father would ever agree to it. They'll talk sense into you.

"You promise?" She looked at him, face as fierce as only a young child's can be.

"Promise," he said, and that satisfied her. She ran, practically floating, back towards the camp.

....

"Sure. Where are the children?"

"They... They ordered... them taken to the... Ebon Manse."

"Ebon Manse... wait. Old black marble pillars? Disturbing ruin near a dry well full of bones? Odd feeling that something ancient and malevolent wants your intestines for a torc?"

"How... you know it?"

"Haven't been THERE for a while. Not since Tiamat got stroppy that one time... Well. Thank you, you've been quite helpful."

"Glory to Allah..."

"Somehow I don't think Allah would approve of you taking children to the Ebon Manse. Really don't get the impression that he's that kind of god, pork-phobia aside and all."

"We... We had to gather ten virgins..."

"Mm. Yep, that's Ebon Manse nonsense. Well, pretty sure I can find it from here." If nothing else, all I have to do is follow the trail they left behind.

A thought struck him. "I'm going to wager that's where my pack is, yes?"

"Pack?"

"Yes. Not much in it... A few odds and ends. Old bronze crown. You know, mementos."

"I... yes. The captain... claimed it."

"Well! He can't have that. He's no Kal," Gahmess said.

....

THAT threw the Astrologer for a loop. He blinked, and before he could shift his mind to the new paradigm, Faisal pressed on. "Performing this rite, scouring all of Anatolia with a demon of plagues, would be the worst possible treason. Dismantle it."

Reversal completed, and the guards were looking back and forth between him and the Astrologer, now. Faisal knew the Astrologer, he wouldn't have given them all the details. By showing more cards than the Astrologer had, he'd made them doubt their leader.

Now to seal the deal. He flicked his eyes toward Anwar, and the white-haired old soldier nodded, catching the cue.

Anwar cleared his throat."Take the prisoners and we'll leave this place. Back to the barracks, and a hot meal."

"Wait!" the Astrologer levelled his staff, and Faisal grinned to himself. Desperation in that voice. Time to end this.

"Enough." Faisal spread his arms, took a step foward. "Come on back to the Tower. We'll sort out an alternative that doesn't end with-"

The Astrologer's gaze snapped to Anwar. "In his garden are flowers, placed marking the hours, beautifully are they arrayed-"

Anwar's voice shook, as he answered. "-In the full of their bloom, is written God's doom, Kismet grinds down all, it is said."

What? Faisal took a step back. What was going on here?

Anwar sighed. "Sorry, my friend." He pulled his sword, aimed it towards Faisal. "Dead or alive?" He asked the Astronomer.

And then realization struck him. "The fucking Hashasheen?" Faisal roared. "You're a FUCKING ASSASSIN?"

....

"Ah. Yes," Faisal lied. He didn't know what Gahmess meant, but it seemed best to agree. Kal Gahmess, Kal Gahmess... wait, wasn't there an old story? With something like that name in it?

"Well. No matter." Gahmess took his hand away, and looked around at the carnage. "Tell you what, get the children and the womenclear of here, then come back and help me clean up all these bodies. More importantly, their blood. You can tell me what's going on after that's done."

"Blood?" Faisal shuddered, looking at the mess. "That's going to take hours," he whined. He was feeling the price for his earlier adrenaline. He was tired, his muscles ached, and he was feeling every pound that soft living had put on his frame.

"Best done before midnight," Gahmess said. "Otherwise this place will be swarming with hungry ghosts. Blood is power, you know. You don't want to leave a drop of the stuff in the wrong hands. Especially not when there's sorcery involved."

That tone brooked no disagreement, so Faisal left. The children followed him, as he wandered out of the Ebon Manse. Funny, but it no longer seemed so foreboding and menacing as it once had. Almost as if the very ruin was staying quiet, and hoping that the bronzed warrior at the heart of it didn't notice it was there.

Just like that, everything had changed. Faisal shook his head. "Kal Gahmess, Kal Gahmess..." he muttered, a time or two, sounding the word out. No, it was similar, but not quite-

Faisal stopped, so suddenly that the girl bounced off his rump, and sat down. She squawked angrily, but he ignored her as he slapped his palm to his face.

"All Praise to Allah," he whispered, seeing just how complicated life had become. "Gilgamesh."

    
24.10.2017 / 14:46