Andre Martin - Yotkhee

«Sleep well,» he thought, smiling down at her. «And may you have sweet and beautiful dreams.» He then got up and noiselessly returned to his own bed.

* * *

The old Yotkhee fell silent and sat staring deep into the heart of the flames, stroking his long white beard. The herders and their children were still watching the changing images on the large deep blazing screen hanging over the fire, so clear and bright that it could be seen from any side.

Suddenly the picture dimmed, became thinner, and in a few seconds vanished in the dark of the night. Khadko looked at the shaman and asked in a small sad voice:

«What happened then, Irike? What did those evil spirits do then?»

«A mere mortal cannot see these things,» the shaman said mildly, without taking his eyes off the flames, but then let out a heavy sigh.

«But if you tell us, we will know how to avoid these Nghyleka,» said one of the khasavako with polite persistence.

«You can’t avoid them altogether,» responded the shaman. «But you can guard yourselves against the consequences of meeting them.»

«How would we do that, Irike?» Khadko’s curiosity got the best of him again.

Yotkhee raised his eyes and slowly looked at the faces around the fire.

«You’re not tired yet?»

«No, no, not at all!» the herders responded eagerly. «You are such a wonderful storyteller! Do please tell us what happened next! Besides there is always so much work during the day that there is no time for conversation. When will we have an opportunity like this again?»

«Fine!» the old man said with a kindly smile. «Listen on then.»

He took the pouch off his belt again, got another pinch of the dark powder, and threw it into the fire.

* * *

The dreadful pack of the dark and ghostly Nghyleka was rushing along cold stone corridors in the depths of some rock. Water was trickling down the walls, and the whole place was damp and musty. The shadowy figures flew out of winding tunnels into enormous empty caves barely lit by smoking wicker lamps, and then dove back into one of many narrow passageways, disappearing in their impenetrable darkness. Finally they stopped at one of the entrances and wavered in the air, waiting for permission to enter from one of the huge sinister many-armed guards who stood on the threshold of the cave, barring the way with double-edged pole-axes that glinted dark-red in the murky gloom. In the slits of the iron helmets pulled over their ugly heads, their eyes glowed with ominous purple, as if threatening to pierce all intruders right through.

Suddenly another guard came up from behind the shadows, a whole head taller than the others and even more sinister. He looked over all the Nghyleka, turned around, and sauntered towards the entrance of the cave the guards were watching. Then he raised two of his massive right paws and gestured to someone within.

The cave was unbearably hot. It was lit by a dim yellow light that came from a tall flame, deep and thick. In the heart of that flame there was a high-backed black chair with someone in a long black mantle slumped in it, as if deep in thought. The chair was placed next to the wall opposite the entrance, and long tongues of blue fire shot out from the black holes in the stone floor and walls.

The figure in black nodded to the chief guard. He growled something to his helpers, and they stepped aside. One by one, the Nghyleka flew in and hovered before their master. They had no speech and could only mentally convey what they had to communicate.

Nga – for it was he – was silently staring into space, his face now distorted with rage, now twisting into an evil smirk. Suddenly he waved his hand, and in an instant all the shadows evaporated. The Lord of Darkness sat all alone. He was furious at the thought that some boy could deny him some of his slaves.

«I will grind him into dust,» Nga hissed through clenched jaws. He waved his hand again, and a huge picture appeared before him. It glimmered with a pale light and quivered faintly, like the surface of a lake under a light wind. Images came one after another, showing dismal low underground passages and thousands of people, with their eyes closed, trudging along them in endless lines. With long thick sticks in their hands they were working up the sucking bog that stretched far and wide on both sides of the lines of humans. The caves seemed interminable: there were so many of them, and they just kept coming and coming.

«My brother-in-law 26 26 According to the Nenets tradition, Nga is Num’s brother-in-law since he is married to Num’s sister is a fool!» snarled Nga, squinting at the long lines of his slaves. «He believes in the power of the good. Ha! These slackers will betray anyone if you make them the right offer! I already have more of them than one can count, and not a day goes by without adding to their number. Pathetic, miserable creatures! Soon I will cover all the lands with impenetrable bogs, and there will be no power equal to mine!»

The whole cave shook with Nga’s horrifying laughter that bounced off the walls, sprang in myriads of deafening echoes from every little corner, thundered away into the faraway depths of the underworld, and then came back, horrendously multiplied and growing even stronger, so that even the blue flames bent flat over the floor under the pressure of their deadening sound.

«Tomorrow night I will go out to look at these miserable humans myself. Let’s see what that snotty little upstart can do!»

Nga waved his hand, and his servants appeared before him again.

«If you don’t bring me that boy tomorrow, immediately after nightfall, I will send you all to work up the bog!» Nga hissed menacingly and then roared so powerfully, that the shivering Nghyleka huddled into one pathetic knot in the far corner of the gloomy cave: «Is that clear?!»

* * *

When the first rays of the morning sun tickled the eyelashes of the sleeping travelers, the young shaman was already up and busy making his fire. The grownups stretched, yawned, and quickly got up, while the children pulled their blankets over their heads and turned over on the other side, trying to snatch a few more precious moments of sleep.

«We’ll be starting on the rafts right after breakfast,» announced one of the khasavako loudly.

«Yay! We will travel by water! Hurray!» the children’s excited voices rang happily over the river, and their parents couldn’t help smiling.

«You all should watch the fires, gather firewood, and help your mothers with cooking,» added the khasavako.

«Yay! Yay! Hurray!» the children responded enthusiastically.

It took a whole day to build the rafts. The grownups barely stopped at all. The children saw how hard they were working and how difficult it was to carry the heavy tree trunks from the forest, so Edeine decided to cheer the workers up and started singing. Her song was so happy and full of life, that all the children immediately joined in, jumping and dancing around the campfires.

Pines and birch-trees, one and two,

Building rafts for me and you.

Keep your chin up, three and four,

Don’t look gloomy anymore.

To the left!

Our way is long.

To the right!

Let’s sing a song!

Down the river, o’er the sand,

We will go to our new land.

Far around the world we’ll roam

On the way to our new home.

Yotkhee got out his pipe and started playing a joyful, bouncy tune, and soon the grownups found a new spring in their step and new strength in their arms. By nightfall the rafts were ready and tied up with ropes to the wooden stakes driven deep into the river bank.