by John McCuaig
“Keep your faith,” Taipi muttered to his four remaining men as the sounds of their brother faded into the night. “Soon, we will be at the altar of Supay. Soon, we will have what we came for and then we can all leave this place.” Taipi could see that their resolve was crumbling. They needed more bolstering...or intimidation. So, he walked along and looked each of them in the eye. He felt the same satisfaction he always felt when they shrank under the black scrutiny of his stare.
“We just have to have trust in the power of our Gods,” he said with beaming confidence. “All will be well. Come on, let’s get moving.” He could sense their almost palpable hesitation but he managed to herd them in through the opening. As they edged their way into the pyramid, they found themselves standing at the mouth of the long corridor that led to the main chamber.
As the priests walked, their torches flickered, sending weak tendrils of light to lick upwards only to have the darkness high above consume it. Dimly visible were the towering, carved sentinel statues evenly spaced out along the entire length of the passageway. Devils, demons and ghouls stared emptily, yet somehow forebodingly, down at the priests from high with jewel-encrusted eyes that seemed to follow the groups progress as they nervously continued towards their goal. The last statue at the end of the corridor depicted Supay himself, as the last guardian of the chamber. As shown on the plaque at the door, he held a severed head in each hand.
The men stayed huddled together as they passed the massive statue, almost scurrying to reach the centre of the pyramid. They were inside the main chamber now. This was where the people of Huacas once prayed to the lord of the underworld, and this was where they would raise up the army of the Ukhu Pacha.
Taipi was the only one happy, soon he would have the soldiers he needed to defeat the Spaniards and rescue the King...if that was possible, then they would be treated as heroes throughout the whole Incan Empire, and Minco would be dismissed as unnecessary. If the king could not be saved, then it was so much the better. Taipi liked this idea and he already had thoughts of keeping hold of the dead soldiers for a time. With this new army, Taipi could take control of the city with ease. Perhaps the Time of the Kings was now over. It was time for a new ruler, and Taipi, High Priest of Cuzco, would become Emperor.
“There,” one of the priests called out in a voice trembling with fear. “The altar and the effigy of Supay are over there.” With one shaking hand, he pointed towards a long, dark marble altar with a golden image of Supay as its centrepiece. The group of holy men gathered around the small, plain effigy, looking bemused. At only a few inches tall, it was not what they had expected to find, but it was not going to stop their plans.
Taipi took some parchments from a compartment hidden inside his robes and with great care; he laid them out on the dark altar. They were very old, tattered and stained, and The High Priest struggled to make out some of the symbols in the guttering torchlight as he chanted its ancient passages. He was soon lost in those words, all his powers channelled into his work.
Time seemed to crawl once more as Taipi and his followers continued with the chanting, and sweat broke out in beads on their foreheads. However, just as the other priests began to breathe a little easier in the hope that nothing would come of their efforts, a low, rumbling sound rolled to the surface at her feet. The ground beneath them began to vibrate gently, and then abruptly, stopping just as Taipi finished reciting his spell.
Nothing happened at first. The stony silence had returned, and the air around them felt heavy with it. The priests looked for signs of life or movement but all they could sense was that unearthly- and unsettling- quiet. Taipi quickly rummaged through the parchments searching in vain for something he might have missed, for what could have gone wrong.
“Mayta...look...the statue!” Taipi followed the priest’s gaze. The eyes on the little table effigy had begun to emit a dull, reddish glow. They all felt drawn to it, they felt calmed, almost hypnotised by the pulsing light, drawn to the beauty of its presence, to its strange glory. As the group of men watched, their eyes pulsed faster and faster, until they glowed with the consistent deep red of dark garnets.
“It is happening, my children,” Taipi said, unable to hide his exhalation. “My prayers have been answered by the gods! Be ready, my faithful, soon we shall have the power to control his army.”
Deep, heavy cracking noises echoed around the large, seemingly empty chamber. Taipi and his priests peered deep into the darkness, looking for the source of the thunderous din. One of the priests screamed, child-like, pointing at the approaching apparitions. Soon the priests were surrounded.
The army of Supay had arrived.
Everything had gone directly to Taipi’s plan so far. Over twenty undead denizens of the Forbidden City had materialised in the darkness, solidified into reality, and now, stood directly before the priests of Cuzco in all their evil glory. Taipi saw that they were once both men and women, and all long since dead. Their bodies were rotted down to just sinew and bone with only a few threads of flesh that had mummified over the years.
One of the bodies came closer than the others did, stopping only when it stood face to face with the proud looking Taipi. The creature appeared to have been a young man, barely in his teens when he’d been taken. Unmoved, the High Priest stared directly into its lifeless eyes, eyes that should have rotted away decades ago. His own reflection stared right back. The monster’s putrid head tilted slightly, patches of black hair still clinging to its ashen scalp as it regarded the person who had awoken it. Its grey-blue lips parted slightly. A nearly inaudible wheeze came rushing past its yellow teeth as if it tasted the air, tasting them.
“You will come with us,” Taipi said, voice booming with authority as he addressed the undead soldiers, then he directly spoke to the figure before him. “You will obey only me, for I am now your master.”
The undead gave no indication that they heard, or comprehended the High Priests words. They did not acknowledge him as their leader, nor did they attack. They just stood there motionless, their dead grey eyes firmly fixed on the intruders. Taipi’s impatience and ire at their disobedience grew stronger by the second. “It is I who has raised you from your slumber. You will accompany us to Cuzco at once.”
Taipi slowly raised his hand and pointed back down the passageway to the doors. The undead boy’s eyes followed the movement of his pointing finger and not at the direction that it was aimed. Its own withered hand shot up in a flash, wrapping sinuous fingers around Taipi’s wrist. Its grip was adamantine as it pulled the priest’s arm forward and plunged his fingers into its cold, dead mouth. The teeth bit down and Taipi felt pain and then a white-hot sheet of agony as its teeth ground through flesh and bone, tearing away the tips of the first two fingers. He was stuck fast. He could only look on helplessly as the undead feasted eagerly on the sweet, moist flesh. Its hunger was strong- it had been many decades since these creatures last had the chance to feed.
Screaming frantically in pain, not caring that he sounded like a woman, Taipi struck the undead boy repeatedly about the face and head with his good hand. The blows had little to no effect, save to bring its teeth down harder and faster on Taipi’s own flesh, causing himself even more pain and damage. The creature was far too strong for him, and nothing on earth would stop its long-awaited feast.
This time was different; the other priests did not rush over to the aid of their Mayta in peril. They scattered to the four winds in a chaotic attempt to flee from the beasts. They were already far too late. The smell of the blood sent the rest of the surrounding undead into a feeding frenzy. Within seconds, all of the holy men had been dragged down to the ground, while Taipi could only watch in horror as the undead boy gnawed away along his hand and then sank its teeth into the soft, plump flesh of his forearm. His screams and the screams of the others seemed distant and foreign to his ears now.
Taipi himself was dropped down to the floor, his knees buckling in shock and agony. He stared at the stump of his left arm, not
caring that all around him; his priests were being eaten as well.
He was the important one. He was meant to be spared, to lead this army. It seemed that Supay and his army had other ideas.
He watched in agony as sprays of his own blood spurted in hot gouts over his own robe and onto the black, stone floor. As he felt the last of his lifeblood slipping away, he thought that might be the only blessing. But before he could slip away, Taipi began to hear a deep voice inside his head, at first sounding faraway, then growing, growing until it was the only sound he could hear.
The voice was his reality, his life and his death.
The great and terrible Supay was speaking to him.
Now Supay was his god.
8- The March of the Undead
Once more, the massive gates of the City of Huacas swung wide open and the feared soldiers of Supay poured through them like a great flood of the damned. The undead soldier leading this army was none other than the reanimated corpse of Taipi himself.
Supay was pleased with his new general for his army. This man who in life was a holy man for deities, pretending to be his equals or greater, now belonged to him alone. His grey, clouded unblinking eyes never wavered from the path ahead. His master needed more souls and the Taipi creature knew exactly where to find them.
Supay’s army numbered less than fifty but soon enough, that number would grow. For every victim that they took as they swarmed like locusts through the jungle, a new soldier would join its ranks. There would be many soldiers gained on the road to Cuzco alone, and that number would be needed to bring the capital to its knees.
Only a few hundred yards from the gates of the Forbidden City, the army found the terrified young priest who had run from the pyramid before the others had even gone inside its evil walls. He hadn’t gotten far. Sitting cross-legged by the side of the road, he was rocking ever so slightly back and forth as he chanted incantations to his pathetic gods.
Somewhere, deep in his heart, the priest had known it would come to this; and here it was, cutting a deadly swath down the path towards him. Even on seeing the Ukhu Pacha approach, the young man did not bother to try to run. He knew there was no place left to go, nowhere safe from the madness. Instead, he continued with his prayers, even when Taipi easily lifted him off the ground with his one remaining good hand. His chanting prayers were calm, even resigned until the former High Priest of Cuzco closed its jaws over his mouth and bit down on flesh and bone.
*****
Only a short time later, the growing swarm of the undead came upon the first settlement on their deadly journey to Cuzco. It was a small farming village called Chineco. As Taipi and his army surrounded the dozen or so clay and straw huts, they could sense and smell the living inside. They stopped and listened to the sounds of families inside, eating their breakfast, laughing, and full of life, joy and love. However, Taipi and the others felt nothing but hunger and a feral kind of excited anticipation.
The door to the first of these huts burst open and a half dozen of the undead crammed themselves through the entrance. A mother screamed at the horrific sight before her, beasts pouring into her home with faces and bodies all rotted and torn. She swept up her two small children protectively in her arms, a boy and a girl, both screaming out in unnerving terror. Their father picked up his heavy scythe and stepped in front of his family, swinging futilely and falling deep into the arms of the beasts, which instinctively saw him as a potential addition to their ranks. They bit strategically, tearing out his throat and lowered him to the floor to allow him time to bleed out while they concentrated on the farmer’s wife and children.
The man’s last sight was of his wife and children being devoured piece by piece. As he cried, he heard the voice, it soon drowned out the screams of his children.
*****
The further they got away from Huacas and the closer to Cuzco, the more the army grew. Many more small farming and fishing settlements were found. Supay’s army fell upon them all, turning those they saw with potential, and devouring the rest with glee. Taipi stood in the centre of one village and watched the chaos around him with a devilish delight, he was very proud at the progress of his army. By the end of the first day, they numbered well into the hundreds. But he also knew there had not been much resistance thus far. Soon they would have their first challenge, when the army reached the town of Tarapoto.
Located on the main road from Cuzco to the cities in the north, Tarapoto was a favourite stop for the rich and powerful in their culture. Almost two thousand men, women and children lived within its prim and proper buildings and at the centre of the town, was one of the finest Tambos in the entire empire. This elegant meeting and resting house was well known to all for serving nothing but the finest food and drink. Due to its importance and location, the town also had a permanent garrison of troops based within the structure. It housed one hundred and fifty men, each of whom had sworn with their lives to protect the town and its people.
This day would be the greatest test of their pledge.
*****
Ayar Ochi was the man in charge of the town’s garrison. Still only in his twenties, he was relatively young to be in such a position of power and responsibility, though it did not surprise those who knew him well. He was a skilled and driven young man.
Even with such a powerful position, however, all he’d ever wanted was to get away from Tarapoto. His dream was to one day lead the soldiers at the capital, Cuzco. All that he had desired for years was to be what his older brother, Minco, was now- the Protector of the largest city in the Empire, to be in charge of thousands of warriors.
Ayar was standing in the pretty town square, getting more and more bored by the minute as he chatted the day away with some of the local dignitaries when the first screams began from the outskirts of town. Feeling a dark rush of adrenaline, Ayar made quick apologies and excused himself from the nobles, rushing to ring on the golden alarm bell that would rally his consignment of men to his side. They gathered in the square in record time, having heard the screams for aid themselves and without the need for any orders, Ayar led them racing to those in need.
As Ayar and his men rounded a bend in the street, the sight assaulted their senses and stopped the breath in his chest. There what looked like a handful of men, were kneeling on the ground...and eating some of his people. It only took a moment to realise that these creatures were no longer human. Their faces were blank and colourless, their skin all bloodied and torn. As these evil monsters heard the soldiers approach, they abandoned what was left of the mutilated bodies and charged with hungry intent towards these new targets. Somehow, they seemed to know that these heavily armoured men would make fine additions to their ranks.
Ayar was the first to meet with the undead invaders. His trusty axe landed perfectly on top of the lead beast’s head. The sound that accompanied his strike was surprisingly not a heavy crack. Instead, Ayar felt a revulsion rising in the form of bile at the dull, wet squish instead. Ayar wrestled the axe free, the now still monster toppled forward never to move again.
The stench filled his nostrils and his stomach rolled as more of the undead met this fate at the hands of Ayar’s men. Fifty well-drilled soldiers made light and quick work of this handful of the undead. Suffering the loss of only two of his own men, they sent the marauding creatures straight back to hell.
The soldiers of Tarapoto looked down at their slain foes with a fierce pride, cheering and rejoicing at their decisive victory. Ayar, however, not so happy; he needed to know more about these beasts. Where did they come from and were these few the only ones?
Fresh screams gave him at least one of the answers he sought, but he could also sense by these calls for help that it was more than just a handful of those creatures they would face next time. The noise was coming from right in the centre of the city, punctuated by the rapid ringing of the alarm bell. How had they gotten so deep inside the city this quickly? Grimly setting his jaw, Ayar sped towards the distress call with his troop of
faithful soldiers’ right behind him.
As they turned into the normally well-kept square, Ayar saw that the remainder of his men were already battling against the deadly horde...and losing. Several hundred undead were already sweeping over his men like a brutal tidal wave, washing away the living as it picked up speed and power. The screams he heard were coming not only from the people of the town, they were coming from his own men. They were calling out to the gods, to Ayar, to their mothers, to anyone who would listen- and this time, there would be no answer.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Ayar joined the battle. He and his men who had followed him tried in vain to stem the unholy flood of the undead. It was a hopeless task- there were simply too many to hold back. For every two creatures the men managed to kill, they lost at least one of their own. The soldiers watched in open-mouthed shock as each of their fallen comrades rose up again, only to begin fighting shoulder to shoulder with this new enemy. Every minute the battle raged on, they were becoming more and more out numbered.
Ayar knew he had to do something to sway the battle in their favour and he had to do it quickly.
“The Tambos,” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Everyone get back, get inside the Tambos! We’ll make a stand there. Move it! Now!”
Even in the face of this insurmountable force, his men still followed his orders without question. Inch by inch, they made their way to the large stone central building. They were still quickly losing their numbers and by the time they got to the doors, they were already down to less than thirty. Ayar turned the golden handle but the locks on the heavy door would not budge. It had been locked from the inside.
“Open this damn door,” Ayar roared, banging the handle of his axe on the thick wooden barrier as his men fought in vain to keep the devouring horde back. “Let us in now! Do you hear me? I am Ayar Ochi, Protector of Tarapoto. You must do as I say.”