Stories from Yakutia

Keryah

Despite the abundance of spirits of everyone and everything in the nature, there is no such concept as "leshii" or his analog in the Yakut faith (translator's note: leshii is an old pagan deity, guardian of the forest that sometimes leads travellers astray). There is Baianai — spirit patron of hunting, and it is said one can meet it in the woods (there is a shitload of brick-shitting-inducing legends and tales of such meetings), but it is not particulary similar to the leshii, and ranks higher too. Bears would sometimes be called "leshii" ("tyataagy") in Yakutia. Perhaps, the leshii is simply not needed in Yakut mythology as any area, any part of the woods, any mountain, any lake, etc. — everything already has its own spirit patron. These entities, I must say, are not known for their niceness, and can and will strongly punish the awry traveler if he does not follow local customs. Sometimes even physically. For example, in Yakutia it is strictly forbidden, when in a new to yourself, or deserted area, to say its name out loud— it is considered a grave offence to the local spirit. You may laugh, but the author was very nearly slapped by his parents in the childhood during one trip for reading roadside signs with the name of the area out loud. This rule is strictly observed even today, and were you to violate it, everyone would squint at you from a safe distance. I would too, most likely. It is one thing to laugh at dumb yokels from inside a cozy apartment, and radically another when you find yourself in 300 km from civilization amidst deep eldritch woods, where anything's possible.

When entering especially sacred areas of Yakutia, by the roadsшвy you are likely to find trees entirely covered with candy wrappers, coins and even banknotes. They are relatively abundant, I myself saw five of them in my life. It is called "keryah" — a sacred tree. If you want to cross the sacred area untouched by unknown powers, you must offer tribute — leave any wrapper, coin or a banknote on a tree. Actually, at present this rule is not too strictly observed — even if you leave nothing, nothing will become of you, provided you broke no other rules. And if you were to somehow offended the tree or, even worse, collected its "gifts" for yourself, then that's it - be ready to wear a target on your back for the local spirits.

The first case happened during the late soviet times — sometime around the 80s. Some bigwig from the regional center, we will call hm Nikolai, went to visit the neighboring district, accompanied only by the driver of the car, who we will call Ivan. It was winter time, it was taking them a while, and before long it was dark. Entering some glade they noticed one such decorated tree on their left. Of course, they knew what it was, but did not put any stock into local beliefs, and so they drove on, but not before the driver took a piss at the base of the tree. It's pitch black around, only light circle from headlights could be seen on the snow covered road. And suddenly Ivan noticed that the sound of the car's engine changed notably, as the car had sunk in slightly and began to lose speed. He presses the gas pedal, the motor roars, but the car doesn't go faster than creeping speed.

That's when Nikolay the bigwig asks it and why did it smell of rot inside the car. Ivan shtugs at first, but then, looking back, shits bricks as he spots a lean yakut, dressed in decrepit fur clothes, looking back at him with mean intent. He froze with fear, remembering what he did to the tree, while still driving the car forward automatically. Nikolay asked him in what was wrong, and Ivan only nodded back, unable to a word more. The chief took a gander back and shut up right there and then. The stench was groing stronger, the car was creeping ever slower, like a turtle, as if the passenger on a back seat weighed at least several centners (translator's note: centner is 100kg), both people in the car were whiter than chalk, but had no wish to stop the car in the middle of a deserted glade. And so they drive on. Driver glances at the rearview mirror, but there nothing is reflected there— an empty back seat. But once he turns to look back, he is hit with the same stench, as if their passenger died and started decomposing two weeks ago, and yet still pierces the driver with his sunken eyes. As fear grows, the driver doesn't dare to look back again and keeps his eyes on the road.

They drove for about an hour, until they reached the first the settlement on there way. When the lights of the houses were close, the driver felt how the car suddenly went easier. Having taken courage, he turned back — there was nobody at the back seat. Letting out a sigh of relief, he tucked at Nikolai, and they both exhaled. But the stench did not disappear at once, they even had to slightly open windows to let the smell out quicker. later they would both pledge to honor all the traditions from now on to never again find themselves in such a horror.

© 1996 Archive66