The Mask of Erlik

The following account was found after the disappearance of two researchers in Northern Russia in the subsequent investigation. It was written in a journal found in the coat pocket of a 30-year-old researcher on an expedition, Dr. Daniel Moore. The investigation has affirmed that the entries in the journal were written by Dr. Moore, whose body was discovered in a forest near Lake Taymyr by local law enforcement.

Entry 1 | 09/07/2008

Tim and I arrived in Syndassko today. We're on a research expedition to search for signs of climate change in the Arctic. I was very excited when the project was approved — Tim and I earned our PhD's in geoscience in the same year at K-State and have been researching there together since then. Syndassko is a small settlement of about 500 people, supposedly one of the northernmost villages here in Russia, and will serve as our final checkpoint before going offline for a month. About half of the villagers are Russian — the other half are indigenous Siberian. We are staying the night here in the only inn and pub; thankfully it’s nice enough. Tim and I intend to set out early in the morning to head further into the peninsula, but that didn’t stop us from stopping for a drink downstairs. I met the most interesting local at the bar, and when I told him I was traveling north across the strait to lake Taymyr, he seemed to grow almost wary. He told me about a commune by the lake up north who moved supplies though the Syndassko. The man described the settlers on the lake as withdrawn and odd, clearly united by a distinct religious doctrine. This was odd indeed, as we had previously been told that the entire peninsula was uninhabited. Intriguing. I hope that Tim and I can find a way to see their village should we have any spare time during our data collection expedition. We will cross the Khatanga River and go north toward the lake tomorrow to set up camp.

Entry 2 | 09/09/2008

We have set up our base camp for the month and started our data collection. Tim and I set up our respective tents and a veritable marquis for our equipment. We started by taking soil, ice, and groundwater samples as well as temperature and atmospheric data. I suppose it’s redundant to mention it here. It is bitterly cold for this early in the year, just barely creeping above -7°C at the peak of the day. The landscape is fascinating. We’ve left the mountains and the Siberian taiga to the south, and the whole terrain is a grassy, brambly tundra dotted with several thousand tiny ponds. I suspect they are remnants of long-gone glaciers from the last ice age. Regardless, the Russian tundra is utterly unique. I’m excited.

Entry 3 | 09/11/2008

On our excursion to the shore of Lake Taymyr today, we encountered the village that the local I met in Syndassko mentioned. It was surprisingly well established and parts of it were very old. Their buildings are constructed out of thick pine and spruce logs and another type of wood I learned is called the Siberian Larch. The exterior walls are dotted with paintings done in a red paint that seems unperturbed by the elements. I’m guessing they repaint regularly. Barns and pastures take up the majority of the land around a small town center. Everything slopes downward toward the shore that houses a row of docks. The villagers emerged to greet our vehicle as we approached, but as they realized that we did not speak their indigenous language or good Russian, they sent a man to speak with us. The man’s name was Vasily, and he was originally from Krasnoyarsk and spoke decent English. He spoke to us briefly, telling us that the village was not prepared for visitors but could offer us a tour the next day.

Tim and I returned to camp and consolidated the data that had been collected during the day. We tried playing catch with the slightly deflated football I had brought, but just a few minutes gloveless in the Arctic air made our hands stiff and achy. We built a small campfire and brought out the bottle of whisky we packed and talked. All we could hear was the fire crackling and the wind blowing over the tundra. It was nice.

Entry 4 | 09/12/2008

Vasily is much younger than he looks. He told us he’s 25, but he has some deeply-set wrinkles in his face and very dark circles under his eyes. He looks almost 40. I suspect this is because he grew up during the industrialization of Krasnoyarsk — a myriad of pollutants was pumped into the air and water during the years when he grew up there, but I digress. Vasily greeted us at the entrance to the settlement and offered to show us around. He told us that the village is called Komur. The people in the village have separate huts to sleep in, but everything else is done as a community. He showed us a small hall full of tables where the villagers eat, the town hall where the villagers meet, and the temple. Interestingly, the temple was surrounded by a considerable ring of rocks painted with the same vibrant red paint the rest of the village used. The building itself was entirely red and covered in delicate murals done in black. They were scenes of war, banishment, cannibalism, and other interesting aspects of what I expect is the settlement’s mythology.

Vasily told Tim and I that we are not to cross into any area surrounded by red rocks. They designate an area only accessible to the village elders. I asked Vasily what they did in the temple, and he told us the elders kept relics inside and did some private rituals. This piqued my interest indeed, but I didn’t press him any more. We moved on to see the docks on the lake shore, each one sporting a collection of nice wooden skiffs and canoes. All of the food that is not delivered to the village must be raised as livestock or caught from the lake. I expect it is much too cold up here to grow anything. I asked Vasily how the village made money to afford supplies, and he told me that they had some very successful and loyal investors. Finally, we came to a large grove of trees a little way out of the village. The whole thing was surrounded by red rocks, with some trails running into the thicket also lined with red. He told us this was the amphitheater where village-wide ceremonies are held. I scooted around, trying to catch a glimpse inside of the arena. The only thing I was able to see was a few large wooden t-shaped posts, each constructed with two perpendicular logs. Vasily moved us along before I could see anything more.

This excursion is feeling equally anthropological as geological/geographical, but Komur is absolutely fascinating to me. Tim and I returned to camp this evening before the villagers sat for dinner and took down our data. We will collect more samples tomorrow, but I expect to return to the village in two days.

Entry 5 | 09/14/2008

We drove to the village again today. Vasily, Tim, and I sat down outside the town hall and talked about Komur. He explained how its residents are descendants of migrants from the Ural Mountains. Their first language is a type of Ugric language that’s no longer spoken anywhere else. He told me that the settlement was named after a figure in their mythology, the original deity that led the settlers to the lake. After guiding them to their final destination, Komur bestowed the mask of his father, Erlik, upon them, they began to worship them both. There is a ceremony celebrating Komur’s origins coming up in a week. When I asked if they still had the mask, he told me that it is kept in the temple. I had to see it. Now I consider myself a moral man, but curiosity is what led me to science. Besides, I’m not looking to broadcast this village’s secrets to the world. I just had to know.

Tim and I waited. Many people were busy this afternoon with their jobs or preparation for next week’s ceremony. At this point in the day, most of the town center was deserted. Vasily had to attend to some business by the docks, so we seized the opportunity to sneak around the side of the temple. Crossing the line of scarlet-painted rocks was exhilarating. The door was heavy; I only opened it wide enough to slip inside. It was only illuminated by a small skylight at the roof’s apex that cast a sparse gray glow through the room that didn’t reach the corners. Peeking out of the darkness at the back of the room was a very imposing object indeed. As my eyes adjusted, it became clearer — a sign was posted below it that read “МАСКА ЭРЛИКА”. It was horrible. The mask was fully red with deep lines carved out of it to create a wicked grimace. Black horns erupted from the sides of it and the whole relic emanated cruelty and brutality. In retrospect, it is a fascinating cultural monument, but while I was in that room, all I wanted to do was leave.

Tim left before me. He told me as he left the room, he saw an older man across the road watching him whose eyes seemed to bore into him. It's an effect that’s likely a product of his own guilt. I left the room just after Tim and the man was gone, so we went down to the docks to see where Vasily had gone. Tim is understandably still nervous about that man watching him. We're going to keep our distance from the village for now. We have a good amount of research to attend to over the next few days. We're here for work, to do research; the village is just a bonus.

Entry 6 | 09/21/2008

Vasily met Tim and I as we approached Komur this evening and told us they had been anticipating our arrival. After a week of nothing but data and sample collection and analysis with Tim, I was itching to get back to different human interaction. As we were walking through the main part of the village, Vasily informed the both of us that we had been invited by the elders to attend tomorrow night’s ceremony. This was very exciting news to me, but Tim seemed apprehensive. I get the feeling that he doesn’t completely trust Komur’s hospitality, or at least Vasily’s. The streets have been lined with torches and everything is draped in red banners. Elaborately-painted shields and drums are hung from buildings and posts and trees. The whole scene is very festive. Small fire rings with wooden tepees have been set up along the trail to the ceremony ring and the villagers are very lively, passing around beer and wine and spirits. When the sun sets this far north it never gets darker than dusk, so much of the horizon still burns with a hazy orange glow. I was extremely charmed by the whole scene. Vasily told us to return tomorrow before sunset so that we don’t miss anything. I’m not sure what to expect, but I’m experiencing an interesting cocktail of elation and apprehension.

Entry 7 | 09/22/2008

Today, Tim and I are in the village for the ceremony. I’ve brought my journal and I’m going to jot down notes and impressions at different points throughout the evening.

The village is having a nice feast ahead of the ceremony. The village elders are seated at the front of the hall at the high table. They’ve donned beautiful ceremonial garments covered in ornate patterns and fur. The striking red of the fabric matches the banners, drums, and shields hung around the inside of the hall. The juxtaposition of the scarlet and the wooden interior is magical. Each elder is wearing a different headdress: one has a fur hood, one is wearing the horns of a bighorn sheep, and one is wearing some kind of beaver pelt. Vasily tells me they’re significant of their ranks. Torches in braziers and candles on the tables illuminate the hall warmly. Everyone was given an entire whitefish and a healthy amount of an interesting liquor. It’s positively euphoric.

I’m sitting in the amphitheater. After the feast was complete, the elders rose from their table and filed out of the hall. Each table then began to leave one at a time. It would be about 15 minutes before the next table got up and left. Tim and Vasily and I got up and began making our way toward the amphitheater. The small fires that had been built the night before were lit; green spruce branches have been placed on them and the smell of conifer smoke has been drifting across the valley. Thick rugs, scarves, and cushions are draped around each fire. Each one is tended by one of the elders; some are playing carved wooden and bone flutes and sending soothing music that mingles with the smoke in the air. Vasily told me everyone receives a blessing before the ceremony. I was directed to a man a little ways off the trail. I sat down on a cushion in front of him. The fire made his face glow orange and his blue eyes amber. He was wearing an ornate red tunic and fur pants and a large necklace beaded with claws that were tipped in red paint. He put his hands on my shoulders and spoke to me in a gruff singing language before putting his forehead to mine. He dipped his finger in a bowl of red mud and traced it across my cheeks; we looked at each other for a little longer before he gestured for me to leave. I walked down the red-rock-lined trail with a group of villagers into the amphitheater. There are four small t-shaped posts arranged around a much larger one and a large bonfire. A separate seating area is situated on the opposite side of the ring, I assume for the elders.

I haven’t seen Tim since dinner. I’ve looked around the whole council ring but can’t spot him. The elders came in bearing four shields and the Mask of Erlik. The mask looks even more hideous in the dusky light of the fire, and the four posts around the larger one now bear the shields carried by the elders as they took their seats. All of the villagers and elders have the same red mud on their faces. The man wearing the headdress with the bighorn sheep horns is speaking now in the same indigenous language as the man who blessed me.

I cannot communicate with anyone so all I can do is record what happened. I feel nauseous. They brought Tim into the council ring, bound and gagged. He was clearly intoxicated — he could barely hold his head up and his feet were dragging. The elders. They crucified him. They untied his hands and then hoisted him up onto the largest post. Everyone began chanting as they put the mask on his head. It was so loud and I didn’t even know what was happening but the man in horns pulled out a knife and drove it into Tim’s stomach and dragged it sideways. I screamed but no one stopped their chanting. The fire turned red and all sounds from the trees or lake stopped and they just kept chanting. I couldn’t hear it but I saw when Tim’s intestines hit the gravel. Trees behind the elders began creaking as a creature emerged from the forest. I’ve never seen anything like it in my most horrifying nightmares. It had to be at least ten feet tall, a stretched perversion of a human being with blood-red skin and limbs that were far too long. Its skin was stretched so tightly across its bones that I could see its abdominal organs pulsating inside it. It was so hideously thin and long that it was almost insectile. Its ropy muscles whipped beneath its skin, mechanically jerking its limbs around. Its face was emaciated and wrinkled; black eyes were deeply set in bony sockets. The whole arena let out a sick wailing sound as the creature took the mask off of Tim’s head and put its mouth to his. It sucked his viscera out of him — I watched him get thinner and thinner as his organs fell out of his gaping wound and hit the ground one after another. It donned the mask and the villagers went into a frenzy. Its head dipped and lolled with the weight of the wooden relic. I jumped over the back row of benches and ran through the trees and the brush. I ran away from the lake, up towards the entrance to the village. I couldn’t find my car — they took the car. They crucified Tim and they took the car. What are they going to do to me? How could they revere that abomination? I kept running, out into the tundra. I found another patch of trees where they might not find me. I’m writing this down — someone has to find this. I can hear them coming. What are they going to

…

Investigators found this journal in the coat pocket of Dr. Daniel Moore. His body was found eviscerated in the middle of the Siberian tundra on October 28. No trace or record was ever discovered of a village by the name of Komur — moreover, there were no signs of villages anywhere on Lake Taymyr. The current understanding is that he encountered some hallucinogenic substance or chemical in the line of his research and was attacked by wildlife after wandering into the wilderness. No sign has been found yet of his partner on the expedition, Dr. Timothy Hollman.