by John McCuaig
Minco waded into them and closed his fists over the collar of Taipi’s vibrant robes, jerking the man unceremoniously forward until their faces almost touched. “Fool!” Minco hissed at the high priest, “Why did you provoke the Spaniards, knowing how close they were to the King?” He threw a glance towards the gore-splattered friar and felt his jaw clench in anger when he turned his gaze back to Taipi. “What in the name of the God’s were you thinking?”
Minco’s peripheral vision took in the approach of the remaining priests. Tense anger made masks of their faces as they drew their ceremonial daggers. They would never allow the High Priest, their Mayta, to be harmed in any way, even at the risk of the wrath of the Protector and his men. They would unflinchingly lay down their lives for the life of the holiest of men. He spoke for the Gods and to these men- and to many in the royal court- the word of Taipi was of a higher power than that of the king.
Minco knew all too well about the priests and their loyalties. He let better judgement prevail and released his grip on the Mayta, releasing the smaller man and backing slowly away. He would not risk the life of the King for instant gratitude, but he would not forget what happened here today, and his memory was long. For now, much more important matters demanded his attention.
Once he was safely out of reach, Minco called one of his guards to his side. “Get back outside the city now; make sure the rest of those Spaniards don’t move from the hillside. Tell them what has happened and what we will do if they move. If they try anything, kill them. Kill them all.” With a single, curt nod, the Incan soldiers turned and sprinted from the main doorway towards the open city gate.
“And what will you do now, Protector?” Taipi asked, though he was smart enough to keep a fair distance between them. He knew Minco well enough not to push his luck past a clearly drawn line. “Do you even have a plan? Don’t forget it’s your sworn duty to save the King,” he turned and swept his arm, palm upward as he gestured grandly around the room. “Or if you prefer, you could stand down and let me take over the rescue?”
Minco’s rising temper was not easy to suppress and he found himself wishing he could crush the other man’s throat with his bare hands. “You’ve done enough already, Mayta.” His eyes flashed angrily. “I need you to keep out of this. I will deal with it.”
Taipi and his priests bowed their head in a mockery of obedience before they withdrew to the nearest wall. They observed the proceedings, watching...waiting.
“We have no choice for now,” Minco told his lieutenants. They’d been hastily summoned and now stood about him looking stricken at his words. “We need to start getting the gold together. That will at least give us some time to come up with a plan. We need to convince the Spaniards that we’re doing all we can to meet their demands.” He gave a single, dismissive nod. “Now get yourselves moving,” said Minco. “I want this finished as soon as possible.”
He knew it would take nearly two full days to get that much gold together, send out his runners and secure the guards it would take to make a safe passage back to the Spanish ships. His dark eyes bore into the simple, wooden door as if trying to see his king within, then he drew a resolute breath. The king would have to stay there for now.
“We do have another choice,” Taipi offered, approaching when Minco was more or less alone. The High Priest glanced around, assuring himself that no one else was within earshot. “Think about this, Protector, we must fight this evil with an even greater one.” Taipi leaned ever closer to Minco’s ear, as though he feared the walls could hear. “I know how to rise up the soldiers of Huacas; the undead army.”
A shiver ran down the length of Minco’s spine as the High Priest continued. “They will come here under my control from the City of the Snake and kill these invaders. Their dark powers will allow them to reach the King unseen and slay these Spaniards before they even realise what has happened.” His voice was clearly alive with fierce excitement. “For years, I have studied the ancient scripts kept in the temple. I can do this, Minco. I know how to control them.” He looked deep into Minco’s eyes, a pleading gaze full of urgency and a deep knowledge that Minco could only begin to understand. “Please, Protector, I need you to give me this chance to save our King.”
Minco hesitated, then shook his head wildly, shocked at himself for even considering such madness. “No, Taipi. The risks of such actions far outweigh the small possibility of success.” He took a step away from the High Priest, suddenly feeling vulnerable to be in such close proximity. “No one is allowed even to go near that place and with good reason. No one can control such darkness, High Priest, no one, not even you.”
Taipi smiled disarmingly, and sidled closer again. “Do not play the fool, Protector. You know as well as I that these Spaniards will never let him live…”
“I said no,” Minco said firmly, his voice rising to show in no uncertain terms that this discussion had come to an end. “I forbid it! If you wish to be of aid, take your priests and go to the temple. Pray with all your powers for the safe return of our King.”
Dismissing the High Priest with a single gesture, Minco turned to the remainder of his men and gave out the orders. The vaults in the city were to be opened wide, emptied of all their riches and brought outside the palace, in plain view of the Spaniards. The route back to the bay was also to be plotted and guards were to be sent in advance to keep the empire’s citizens in order. Even at the cost of his pride and the city’s gold, Minco was prepared to carry out the demands of the Spaniards, if it kept his king alive.
As Minco and his men discussed their plans, Taipi and his own followers quietly left the great hall. They were not, however, on their way to the temples to pray. Taipi had made the decision to disregard the words of the foolish Minco and take matters into his own hands.
When they reached the temple, Taipi summoned together his most faithful priests to gather at the high altar. He told them of his plan to save the King in this dire time of need. They would leave immediately. After changing into some plain, hooded robes, Taipi and a handful of his men stole out of the capital city of Cuzco and set off down the path to Huacas, the forbidden City of the Snake.
They would only return to Cuzco with the Undead Army at their side.
6- A Time for Reflection
Minco lay on his bed but he could not rest. His mind raced behind his closed eyelids, and when he opened them, all he could do was to stare up at the barely lit ceiling.
However, exhausted or not, Minco’s heart skipped a beat as a long, slender arm slid gently across his chest, and long raven-black hair tickled over his skin as his lover snuggled deep into the nape of his neck.
“Please don’t worry, my love,” Inguill, the High Priestess softly mumbled as she stirred from her slumber. “Everything will be just fine.” Her leg glided gently to entwine between his as she continued, her silken voice as soothing as it always was. “I know you will save the King and free us all from these Spaniard invaders.” She kissed the hollow of his throat. “I have complete faith in you, Minco. The Gods will answer our prayers.”
Minco turned and kissed her perfect forehead before wrapping his strong arms around her. He held onto her as tightly as he possibly could, which at least gave him some comfort. Looking down at her as a reassuring little smile formed on her beautiful, olive face, he managed to forget his troubles for a few short, sweet seconds.
For Minco, existing in this fashion was bittersweet. He was always at his happiest when he was lying at Inguill’s side. For years now, they had to try to steal some time together whenever they were able. They could never declare their relationship openly, for Inguill’s high status within the religious hierarchy forbade a union of marriage between them.
The High Priestess was meant to devote her entire life to the praise of the Gods. Having a husband would take away some of that devotion...and for Minco, openly sharing a bed with the High Priestess of Cuzco...blasphemous.
However, they were not greedy. They were grateful for what they
had been given, and that was a blind eye and King Atahualpa’s gracious, secret blessing. Minco remembered the day he had spoken to them alone in his private chambers. The king had told them that the gods had seen fit to bestow this secret happiness upon them, that they had a reason for every gift given to their children and to enjoy their love. He told them he was happy that two of his closest allies had found a little pleasure with each other.
Thinking back on it now, Minco’s eyes welled as the king’s kind words sang to his soul. It was another reminder that he had failed to keep his promise and protect him always. He squeezed his eyes closed and silently swore that he would see his king safely returned and that he would never allow harm to come to him.
Seeking solace, Minco moved his hand caressingly along the contours of Inguill’s body. But as he did, the rising sun sent tendrils of light streaming through the window and spread its warmth over their bed. After a little sigh, Inguill pushed herself upright and swung her legs out of the bed.
“I am sorry, Minco,” she said as she drew her hands slowly through her lustrous hair. “I must go now. I am needed in the temple and the other priestesses will be waiting for me.” She looked longingly at him before she covered her lithe frame with the golden robes of office. “There is much work to be done.”
After a little nod and wearing a strongly forced smile, Minco pressed his hand to his heart and felt it grow heavy as she stopped just short of the main doorway. She turned back, the early light making wondrous mirrors of her dark eyes. Those twin pools full of stars and the unknown made him catch his breath.
“Have some faith,” she said, seeing his worry. “We’ll get through this together my darling. You just need to have a little faith.”
Minco waited until she had left the room before he too rose and got dressed into a clean, fresh uniform. Once ready, he walked over to the window, his eyes drawn towards the palace, to the room where his King was still captive. He imagined that his nemesis, Pizarro, was there, watching this procession.
*****
Both Pizarro and Almargo were already awake, peering out of the high, thin aperture. They watched the mass of Incan men below, filling the long lines of carts with vast amounts of gold. Statues of animals and birds were stacked high up alongside enough cups and plates to hold the largest feast the world could have ever seen. Pizarro felt his mouth begin to water at this sight. He could almost taste their success...and he would soon have his prize.
“Well, at least they’re doing what we told them,” Almargo said with little confidence evident in his gruff voice. His eyes moved away from the gold to the hundreds of well-armed soldiers that formed deep lines around the palace.
“Come on, my friend,” Pizarro snarled. “At least try and show me a little enthusiasm.” Then his eyes came alive with greedy excitement. “We almost have the gold in our hands! Soon we will both be richer than even the King of Spain himself. Surely that thought would make even you smile.”
“This isn’t like you, sir,” Almargo whispered back after looking around, careful not to let any of the others hear him questioning their leader. “Please think for a moment about what we’ve still got to do.” He indicated to the hive of activity outside with a nod of his head. “We need to get out of this damned city, through those narrow, high-walled streets, past many thousands of soldiers, and then march for weeks through the thick jungle, and that’s just to get back to our ships.”
Almargo’s gaze slid towards the king, but he would not look into the eyes of the stoic monarch. He momentarily shuddered and then seemed to get himself back under control. “Managing all of this, with just the life of one, single hostage keeping us safe...” he shook his head ruefully. “You, more than anyone, sir, should realise that the chances of us succeeding are poor to say the least.” He took one more furtive glance around the room, over at the small group of frightened, Spanish men. “Forgive me for saying this, Colonel,” Almargo spoke even softer this time. “But I believe your lust for this gold is blinding you from the facts.”
Pizarro managed to drag his gaze away from the window and smiling, placed his hand on the faithful Almargo’s shoulder once more.
“I will make it happen, this is my destiny. You just have to trust me, my friend,” he said. “I’ll get us both home safe and sound. Just have faith in me, old man. Have a little faith.”
7-The City of the Dead- Huacas
The Mayta and his devoted priests arrived at the iron gates to the Forbidden City just before nightfall fell upon the valley. The derelict and heavily overgrown city had become as crumbling as its denizens had; it was a far from welcoming sight. No one had dared to go near these damp, mouldering walls for well over a hundred years.
The bloody tales of its terrible past had been passed down from generation to generation. Parents had even told their unruly children stories of this city and its inhabitants, to frighten away any thoughts of misbehaving from their heads when they were bold enough to defy their elders. They were threatened with being sent to live forever inside the City of the Snake.
Even in the gloaming, the mighty pyramid could be seen towering high above the city. Much like the capital city, the pyramid had been placed in the centre, giving praise and honour to Supay, the Incan God of Death. However, unlike the bright, golden pyramid of Cuzco, this was as black as its history.
The stories told of the peak of Huacas’ powers, the streets would have been awash with rivers of blood. They spoke of hundreds of helpless souls, who every year, were dragged, screaming for mercy to the very summit of the pyramid. There, they had been placed on a ceremonial altar, their throats cut and their bodies left to bleed slowly out in a sacrifice to Supay, the god of death and greed, said to be the ruler of the Ukhu Pacha- the underworld.
The priests of Huacas believed that human sacrifice was a necessary tribute to appease Supay, that if his thirst for blood was not sated, he would raise his army of the dead to walk here on the earth to take their revenge. No one knew what had happened to those once living in Huacas, or why it now lay empty. But every Incan of the last two generations had heard the story- how one fateful night each and every one of its screaming citizens were dragged, dead or alive, down to hell to serve at the feet of the great god, Supay.
Whatever the real reason had been, no one was crazy enough to go inside its walls seeking out those answers. At least, that was, not until now.
It took all of their combined might to push open the eroded, weather and age savaged gates. The high-pitched creaking they made should have caused a ruckus of fleeing wildlife in the surrounding jungle wild. However, all was silent around them. It seemed that even the birds, insects and animals had enough sense to keep their distance from the Forbidden City.
As they walked along the long, silent streets, the dull purple of twilight quickly gave way to the deep black of the night. The priests’ lit torches produced only low light that seemed consumed by the living night. Wild shadows danced on every surface and in every corner of the empty buildings, doing little to improve morale.
Taipi was the only one who seemed to be unaffected. Of the small group of priests, only he remained silent throughout. All along the journey, the others had mumbled constant prayers to their own gods. Whether they prayed for safety or the success of this mission, Taipi did not know, nor did he actually care.
He could be confident for all of them.
The journey through the city to the pyramid itself seemed to take an unnaturally long time, but eventually, the band of priests arrived at the main entrance. Stopping, they stared in silence at the large pair of heavy doors, each adorned with a massive but badly tarnished silver plaque. The first one depicted Supay coming out of the ground, leaving his home in Ukhu Pacha and in each of his clawed hands he held a long, curved sword. The second plaque showed Supay in his triumphant return; however, in each hand, he now held a severed head. Behind this gruesome figure marched a mass of undead men, following in his wake.
Turning around, Taipi saw a madde
ning fear starting to take root, then grow on the priest’s faces and he felt the need to speak.
“We are nearly there, my children. Soon, we shall be at the altar and with my knowledge of the ancient text, we’ll gain control of Supay’s stolen souls.” Taipi moved, weaving amidst his ranks, meeting their eyes in an attempt to give them courage and support. “We must remember that our gods are more powerful than the ancient Supay; with our faith as our shield, and our devotion as our sword, we shall all be protected from the evil.”
His words did not act as well as he hoped but at least they now moved forward towards the barrier, to enter the temple of Supay. The pyramid’s doors were found to be locked tight, but there was no stopping them now. A large timber beam was quickly torn from above the doorway of a nearby home. The priests, always following Taipi’s orders, tied sections of rope along its length to fashion a crude looking battering ram. Dull thuds echoed throughout the silent city as Taipi and his men went to work on the old wood that barred their way forward. Soon after, the heavy timber doors first cracked, and then the right hand toppled backwards. A thick cloud of grey dust blew outward from within the pyramid’s walls and encased the invaders of Huacas.
Almost in one, the priests dropped to their knees as bile rushed up through their throats and fired like lava onto the stone-clad pavement. The stench released from deep inside the pyramid was like a miasma, filling their mouths, their lungs and their stomachs. Decades of death, disease and rot had at last escaped from its prison and it now engulfed these intruders.
For a few, long minutes they choked, coughed and spat out the vile cloud that slowly blew over them until eventually, it dispersed in the light, almost caressing night wind. As they rose gingerly to their feet, one of the priests screamed out- a wordless, terrified, animal yawp, and bolted away from the others. His continued screams could be heard long after he disappeared down into the blackened streets behind them.