The Shaman of Kupa Piti

by A. Nybo

When Sergei could no longer hold his grin in check, he turned so Charlie and Jolly couldn’t see it. If Leon needed to keep things hidden, then Sergei would respect that. Not that there was anything to hide—yet. No point arousing suspicion, though, impeding the off chance that something might.

  Personal experience had taught him to be discerning about who he revealed his sexuality to, and while the people of Coober Pedy he interacted with didn’t care, that wasn’t necessarily true for Leon’s colleagues. It certainly hadn’t applied to the people of Murmansk Oblast. The Russian administration wasn’t very accepting of homosexuality.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” said Leon. He came to a stop beside Sergei.

  “Nor I, you.” He glanced over to where Lucy sat speaking with a small group of people. He nodded towards her. “I’m Lucy’s date.”

  “Oh?” Leon almost sounded disappointed.

  Wanting to dispel any potential misunderstandings, Sergei leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m her protection.”

  Leon’s brow furrowed. “Does she need protection?”

  “Only from suitors.”

  The furrows in Leon’s brow smoothed out immediately, and he smiled. “Fair enough.”

  “How did you end up here?” asked Sergei. “Are you Doris’s date?”

  Leon chuckled. “Hardly. No, since I’ve been tasked out to Coober Pedy Police for now, they harassed me to come along to get out of my hotel room.”

  “There are other places you could be.” Sergei snickered.

  Leon pressed his lips together, his expression one of disappointment. “Not under the present circumstances.”

  Sergei searched Leon’s gaze and was convinced he could see interest in his eyes. “Shame.” He winked and then looked back to the grill, paying far more care to the turning of the sausages than they needed.

  The silence between them was uncomfortable, and Sergei expected Leon to return to his group, but he continued to stand near the barbecue.

  “I want to talk with you, but I’m not good at small talk, and I don’t know what to say that won’t upset you,” Leon blurted in a hushed tone.

  Startled by Leon’s candour, Sergei stared open-mouthed before he could collect himself. He was more accustomed to macho bullshit than raw honesty, and given Leon’s own expression, he seemed to have shocked himself a little.

  “The only thing that really upsets me is talking about my father and the events surrounding it. It was a very bad time for me, and I’d rather not think about it.”

  “How about before that? When you were a kid?”

  Sergei chuckled. “My life was very cold.” He searched for something to say so he could keep Leon near. “Sometimes I miss the snow, but anytime I do, I remind myself how cold fishing the White Sea was, and that is enough for me to seek out heat.”

  “Since it’s the Arctic, I would have thought it might be frozen in winter.”

  “Da, it is frozen for more than half the year, but it is a very important route, so icebreakers are used.”

  “Icebreakers? You were fishing in ice?”

  He gave an emphatic nod. “Very cold.”

  “Chasing warmth could explain how you ended up in Australia, but Coober Pedy?”

  “I was travelling, and when I was in Turkey I met a man whose sister and husband had been to Australia for a trip and came to see the opal mining. The stories he told me about one-man mines were something beyond my imagination, and I had to see it for myself. I come from arctic tundra that for most of the year doesn’t have a horizon. Imagine seeing a world of colour in a little stone?”

  “What do you mean, it has no horizon?”

  Sergei turned sausages and steaks as he spoke. “It is too cold for trees to grow, and snow quickly covers the plants. For much of the year everything is white—the ground, the sky, even the winds, as they are often visible by the snow they carry. Not like here where the earth is red and the sky is blue.”

  Conversation and teasing ran easily between them until Leon abruptly changed the subject to opal mining. The spark that burned within Leon seemed to blink out, and Sergei experienced disappointment and bewilderment with its disappearance. Also confused with the unexpected turn of conversation, Sergei ran with it and was relieved he had when a hand extended past him with a beer for Leon.

  “You two look like you’re hitting it off,” said Jolly. “I don’t see you out and about much, Sergei.”

  Feeling uncharitable towards the man for dampening Leon’s spark, Sergei gave him a sidelong glance. “Do you look for me often?”

  “Why would I do that?” Jolly was a tall slim man with a prominent Adam’s apple. He tended towards the serious side and appeared genuinely perplexed by Sergei’s question.

  “If you’re not looking for me, then it’s little wonder you don’t see me.”

  Jolly smiled. “You tend to stand out.”

  That was a surprise. “Why?”

  “That long orange beard of yours tends to draw attention.”

  Leon grunted. “Isn’t everyone’s beard, hair, and everything else around here orange?”

  “Not like his.” Jolly pointed to Sergei.

  “As much as my beard enjoys being the centre of attention, I think this meat is ready.”

  Spending time with Leon was one thing; sharing him with people who diminished that spark was another thing entirely.

  One of the last to collect a plateful of steak and salads, Sergei heard Lucy calling for him, saying she’d saved him a seat. She’d claimed two of the three seats on the porch swing, and Sergei couldn’t help but chuckle when she moved from the middle next to Hollywood and made Sergei sit between them. Her subtlety was as lacking as Hollywood’s coordination when he attempted to shovel coleslaw into his mouth.

  “Hey,” Sergei said to Hollywood, as he brushed some grated cabbage from his arm. “Watch where you’re throwing that.”

  A forkful of coleslaw splattered across his shirt, some falling to his lap. About to retaliate, Sergei resisted when the hostess spoke up.

  “That’s it, Hollywood,” said Julie. She handed Sergei a serviette to clean up with. “You’re cut off. No more alcohol for you.”

  The after-dinner entertainment consisted of Hollywood trying to claim a beer and everyone else keeping them from him. By the time Hollywood had staggered around the backyard several times, he’d worn himself out, and someone volunteered to take him home.

  Leon was sitting in a plastic chair near where Hollywood had sat during dinner, and Sergei surreptitiously moved to the end of the swing seat to be closer to him. Half lying, half sitting along the swing, Lucy crawled up under Sergei’s arm.

  “It’s getting cool,” she said as she snuggled in against him. It wasn’t particularly chilly, but the contrast from the intense daytime heat was noticeable.

  He rubbed her bare arm. “Da.” He pulled her in closer to share body heat, hoping she’d be warm enough not to want to leave. Sergei wanted to stay and spend time with Leon, and Leon’s spark seemed to fire around Lucy, unlike when others came to sit and talk. The three of them spoke easily.

  When Charlie came over an hour or so later to announce their departure, it was evident he expected Leon to go with them. If Leon was leaving, there was no reason for Sergei to stay.

  He patted Lucy’s hip. “Shall we go too?”

  “Yes, please. I’m pretty tired,” said Lucy as she rose.

  Sergei kept his arm around her as they walked down the street.

  “You like him, don’t you?” she asked.

  He knew better than to be obtuse with her. “Very much.”

  “He likes you too.”

  Sergei released a resigned sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I am part of this… thing he is investigating. We can’t be together.” He didn’t add “for now” as the lack of any time frame provided by the spirits could mean this was not their time, and they might not meet until ten years down the track.

  “It’s just not fair, is it?”

  One o
f Lucy’s favourite sayings came to mind. He smiled. “It is what it is.”

  She gave his waist a quick squeeze. “Well, I’m jealous of him.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you would be with him if he wanted.”

  “Lucy,” he warned. They’d already spoken about this, more than once. He returned her affectionate squeeze. “I would not be someone you would like if you saw that side of me. I sometimes get aggressive and possessive with my sexual partners. It’s not an attractive trait.”

  He’d only been that way with one partner. Young and in love, he’d had so much trouble controlling himself around his lover that his aggressiveness had eventually driven his partner away. He’d mellowed a lot in the intervening years, but as he hadn’t been in love since, it was difficult to know whether it was still lurking beneath the surface. However, Leon’s ability to equal him in the tussle they’d had in the mine showed he was well equipped to handle Sergei’s crap. The determination on Leon’s face had been oddly exciting.

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she said.

  “No, Lucy. I’m not. People can be very different when they’ve opened themselves up so completely to someone. And I’m one of those people.”

  “Maybe I like you so much because I know I can’t have you,” she said.

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “Hopefully, we’ll both find that special person one day.”

  “And if we don’t, when we’re eighty we can sit out on the veranda together in our rocking chairs, fanning our faces to keep the flies away.” She chuckled.

  “Once we’ve come back from the pub with our six-pack.”

  “Deal,” she said. “Are you okay to drive home?” Lucy asked when they reached the pub.

  “Yes. Do you want a ride home?”

  “You do know I live just around the corner, don’t you?” She grinned.

  “I didn’t, but I can still drive you if you want.”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter 6

  SERGEI STEPPED out of the shower. Muscles loose and relaxed from a heavy day of digging and too tired to go to the pub, all he wanted now was food and sleep. Towel drying his hair, he walked from the bathroom. A crack to the back of his head sent him sprawling.

  Woozy and disorientated, he was vaguely aware of being rolled around and something cool and thin going around his hips. Each blink brought a little more clarity. Someone had him by the arm and was trying to pull him to a standing position.

  “Up, up,” the voice commanded.

  Belatedly, Sergei realised his attacker was speaking in Russian. He tried to put his hands out to stand, but restraints around his wrists prevented him from moving them from his sides. The Ruskie kept him balanced as he struggled to his feet. Barely remaining upright, he was dragged into the lounge room. He struggled to revive the ability to think as he stared down at the clipped blond hair of the man who was now binding his ankles together, but all he could think was how strange it was that his wrists were bound to his sides by woven birch twigs.

  The blond man straightened and met Sergei’s gaze. He was tall and handsome, with blue eyes and an oval face. He was solid and thick with muscle.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” He spoke in English, but when Sergei said nothing, he repeated it in Russian.

  A spark of recognition tried to fight its way through more than a decade, but he couldn’t quite place it.

  “Nyet,” replied Sergei. There was something familiar about the facial expressions too, but placement remained just out of reach.

  The man continued to speak in Russian. “You don’t remember the little wolf pup that trailed behind you for years, begging for scraps of attention?”

  Surely the attractive man before him wasn’t the scrawny kid with the wolfish look in his eyes that prompted Sergei to nickname him the wolf pup. Yet… yes, and there it was, that same predatory glint.

  With narrowed eyes, Sergei blinked. “Evgeni Volkov?”

  The man’s full-lipped grin held an element of self-satisfaction. “I wondered if you would even remember my name, but here you are, able to put name to the child who wanted to be you.”

  Sergei frowned. He didn’t understand any of this. “Why did you want to be me? My life was nothing to be coveted. My family was chased from one place to the next. I was beaten, threatened. My father was killed.”

  “Look at you.” The wistful tone in Evgeni’s voice caused Sergei rising discomfort. “Even now, bound, naked, and vulnerable, you stand looking at me with such poise. It’s like you are unaware you are completely at my mercy, and yet you know.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Do you know why your family was hunted from one place to another?”

  “As soon as it was discovered my father was noaidi, they always chased us away.”

  Evgeni nodded, and when he spoke, it was in a reflective manner. “A wolf doesn’t like a bear in his backyard. The bear will stand up on his hind feet and protect all within his family, and the lone wolf is no match for the bear. But a pack of wolves… well now, they can take down the bear.”

  Sergei’s father’s protectiveness had started with his people, the Sámi. But his immediate family were what he cared about most, and each time their lives were at imminent risk, he would take them and go. Eventually, his father’s struggle to protect his family and their livelihood clashed with his deepest principles, for which he’d finally been murdered. The wolves had killed him because he’d refused to do their bidding.

  “And then there was you,” Evgeni said with a mixture of awe and hatred. “Just like the bear you are, you sought vengeance. And for fourteen long years, you got it. But now I am here to put an end to it.”

  Sergei shook his head. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “A Karelian shaman told me you might not understand the strength of what you did.”

  “Karelian shaman?” Sergei had heard of the tietäjäs, the shamans who used the Kalevala verse to create and break charms, curses, and spells.

  Evgeni’s crooked smile carried a mixture of smug amusement and distaste. “Grigori had a son, you know. His need for help took him to Karelia.”

  “Had a son? Does that mean the fucker is dead? Can’t say I’m sorry to hear it,” Sergei sneered.

  Evgeni chuckled. “You should be, because it was his death that has brought me here. His son is not happy that Grigori spent twelve years wasting away because of you. He was merely a shell when he died.”

  Sergei’s eyebrows shot up. “Because of me?”

  “Because of you.” Evgeni nodded. “You destroyed his spirit.” He left the knowledge hanging in the air for a moment before speaking again. “The Karelian told Grigori junior that a noaidi had made a tupilaq for his father.”

  Memories of the tupilaq Sergei made assailed him. The week he’d spent in an isolated lavvu on the tundra, yoiking as he carefully wrapped the bones that made up the little vengeful figure with hair tied by sinew. And when the figure was finally complete, he returned to the White Sea and set it adrift, into the fog, to seek out Grigori.

  The week of the tupilaq’s construction had been torturous—physically and mentally—and Sergei had been totally committed to the making of it, but later it had seemed surreal. As time passed, he’d thought himself a deluded fool for believing in the power of the tupilaq and putting all that time and energy into making it. He’d been young, and hurt and angry about his father’s murder. Now, fourteen years later, he had to accept that it might have worked.

  “If not for the Karelian, Grigori junior would suffer the same fate. He has already lost part of his spirit, but that is not going to continue. Your tupilaq has been discovered. So today I will start to kill the bear. Once the bear has been killed and buried, then I will kill you.”

  Sergei understood immediately that there was to be a ritualistic spiritual killing. The earthly killing would come later. Both would be equally savage.

  “How did you find me?”
he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “The Karelian told me of the land below where people live underground with gems of milk and rainbows.”

  “You do the Karelian’s bidding now?”

  “From the day you left, I have done Grigori’s bidding, and I still do, despite him being a young, untrained man once again.”

  “You sound bitter. If doing Grigori’s bidding isn’t what you want, then why do it?”

  “I’m certain you know life isn’t that black and white.” Evgeni reached into a gym bag and pulled out the lengths of young, flexible birch that would act as the weapon to slay the bear.

  Bound and unable to escape, Sergei had no recourse other than to yoik under his breath in the hopes of at least loosening this reality so it wasn’t quite as painful as it would otherwise be.

  The first strike of the birch against his skin was like a thousand wasps stinging his lower legs. The binding around his ankles prevented his attempt to avoid the strikes, and he fell, landing heavily on his knees. With each strike, Sergei came closer to the floor until he lay face down, attempting to protect his softer underside.

  Within minutes the entire back of his body, from shoulders to feet, was ablaze from the stinging bites of the birch switch. His yoiking had become a distant whisper, but he clung to it in the hope he could escape this hell for an alternate place in his mind.

  He fought wildly against Evgeni when he tried to turn Sergei onto his back, but ultimately, Evgeni won out. The birch soon left its fiery sting all down his front. Through a delirium of pain, he was vaguely aware of Evgeni almost sitting on his chest, his knees either side of Sergei’s jaw, when he reached over and drew a small traditional Sámi knife from his bag. He put the point beneath Sergei’s chin, just inside his jawbone.

  “I suggest you don’t move, or it will hurt a lot more than it’s already going to.”

  Chapter 7

  SINCE LEON’S stay in Coober Pedy was now indeterminate, by the first Tuesday after the week he’d arrived, they’d organised a spare desk in George’s office, which Leon occupied. Charlie came to a halt in the doorway, an open file in his hands. “We’ve got an ID on the first murder victim—one Thomas Goodwin. George, apparently you’ve picked him up several times for traffic offences.”