The Vilcabamba Prophecy: A Nick Randall Novel

by Robert Rapoza

Finally, after many moons of training and studying, Luna approached Capac and asked, “Teacher, you have taught me many great things, and I am forever in your debt.”

  Capac replied, “You have been a true and faithful student Luna. I am happy that you have changed your ways and have decided to serve your people. The ancestors smile down upon you, now.”

  “Thank you master. There is one last thing I would like to learn; something I have asked about many times.”

  “You seek the meaning of Ayar Cachi’s staff. As you have completed the prescribed training, I will share this secret with you now.”

  Capac related the story of the staff and its ability to control the great power bestowed upon the ancestors by our founders. He explained how the staff worked. The staff and headpiece are to be placed, as one, into the great power source to awaken the ancient gods from their slumber, when the time of the reunification is at hand. Only a descendent of Ayar Cachi can operate the great power source, once again uniting the people of Paititi with their brethren in Vilcabamba, returning them to the land of the ancestors. Capac also told Luna where the staff was kept and who watched over it in the sacred city. Little did he know the deceit in Luna’s heart and the great sorrow her actions would bring upon our people.

  Luna devised a plan and, with the help of her closest followers, she used the knowledge learned from Capac to find the Sacred Cave and discover the location of Vilcabamba. But her treachery was discovered. The keepers of the staff killed her followers and confronted Luna. She battled with them and during the struggle, the sacred staff was broken, and Luna escaped with the headpiece.

  Angry with the treachery wrought by the evil one, the keepers of the staff followed Luna, eager to find the headpiece. Realizing she was a member of the jungle tribe, they attacked Paititi, killing many, until Capac was able to explain what Luna had done. Capac apologized for sharing the sacred secrets with Luna, explaining that she had fulfilled the necessary training to learn them. The keepers of the staff returned to Vilcabamba to protect the remaining piece of the shaft and warned our elders to punish Luna.

  The elders chose our greatest warriors to seek the evildoer and exact our revenge. They tracked her for many days, but Luna, treacherous as ever, eluded them. Finally, one of their scouts, located the evil she-witch and Topa Pachacuti, our greatest warrior, led his troops and captured Luna, bringing her back to Paititi to pay for her crimes.

  The charges brought against her included stealing and damaging the sacred staff, and causing the death and injury of many of her tribespeople at the hands of the staff keepers. It was decided that her punishment would be entombment at the site where Topa Pachacuti finally captured her. She was placed, alive, into a stone sarcophagus, bound and gagged with the medallion around her neck and this book was placed at her feet. The tomb was sealed and a warning was inscribed on the door, as a reminder for all who would consider trying to steal the medallion, again. A trap was also set for anyone who would dare disturb this book; a trap causing them to be eternally entombed with Luna for their evilness.

  Only the one ordained by our ancestors can return the headpiece to our brothers in Vilcabamba and restore the staff to its former greatness, allowing for the great unification to take place. Until that time, we are charged with protecting the headpiece and keeping it from falling into the hands of our enemies. It is our sworn duty to protect it, and we are willing to pay with our lives to keep it safe. Woe to those who would seek to claim the headpiece. Suffering and death surely await them.

  Randall closed the book, a new sense of dread filling him. Surely the protectors of the headpiece had learned it was taken and that Luna’s tomb had been disturbed. If that was the case, then Sam and he were in grave danger. He looked around nervously, and not seeing Sam, stood quickly and began looking for her.

  “Sam, where are you?”

  Panic seized Randall. He had to find Sam.

  He called to her, repeatedly. No answer.

  Randall backtracked over the path they had covered, but found no trace of Sam. He sprinted back by the tomb, paused to look for her outside, but not seeing her, he continued running in the opposite direction along the trail.

  He called out again and again, but got no reply. It was as if the jungle had swallowed her alive. Defeated, he stopped, out of breath. He bent over, placing his forearms on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His breathing slowed once more and he heard a faint noise.

  “Dad?”

  His heart raced, “Sam, tell me where you are!”

  “I’m to your left and behind where you were sitting.”

  “Where?”

  Randall burst through the tree line and into a small clearing. He spotted Sam sitting on the stump of a fallen tree. As he approached, he noticed how still she was, almost as if she was trying not to move. He called to her softly, but she didn’t turn to look at him.

  Randall finally closed the last few yards and approached his daughter, not breaking eye contact with her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Turn around.”

  As he did so, Randall was confronted with a small army of natives, armed to the teeth with spears, clubs and blow guns. He assumed they were the protectors of the headpiece. They didn’t look happy.

  Chapter twenty-nine

  Randall was engulfed by a sea of green and was hopelessly lost, unable to tell what direction they were traveling. His guides, however, seemed quite sure of their surroundings. Despite his concern, Randall was thankful he had found Sam who walked directly in front of him. The trail they were following, if that was an appropriate description of their path, was faint at best, but as they walked, Randall saw distinct markings on some of the plants and trees suggesting they were cut at some time in the past. This suggested it had previously been used as a route, further supporting the notion that these natives were the guardians of the headpiece as implied in the book. Randall also noted that they bore a striking resemblance to the Capanhuaco and were clearly related to them.

  The presence of this new group added a new wrinkle to an already complicated situation. There were now two different tribal groups descended from the original inhabitants of Vilcabamba, and Randall couldn’t help but wonder what this group wanted from Sam and him. Were they a bigger part of the reunification plan or would they be excluded from the party? If the latter was true, how would they respond to the notion that he was trying to help the Capanhuaco? The questions hung heavy on his mind, but he sensed he would soon have his answer. Randall hurried to catch up with Sam.

  “How are you doing, kiddo?”

  “I’m fine, but I’m wondering who these people are and what they want from us.”

  “I think I know.”

  “Why did I think you were going to say that,” Sam said, with a sarcastic look, eliciting a chuckle from her father.

  “They’re the guardians of the medallion or headpiece as they refer to it. As the descendants of the woman in the tomb, it’s their job to protect the medallion from intruders. When we pulled the book out of the sarcophagus, we set off a booby-trap they designed to seal thieves inside the tomb.”

  “So this tribe is related to the Capanhuaco? Then they should want to help us get the medallion back to their relatives.”

  “Maybe, but I’m not sure they’re part of the reunification plan. According to the book, this woman, Luna Quispe, wasn’t very popular with the Capanhuaco. After she stole the medallion, the guardians of the staff figured out that she was from the Paititi tribe, and they took out their anger on the Capanhuaco. In the process, they killed many of the tribespeople, until one of the elders was able to explain that Luna and her team were acting on their own.”

  “So the two tribes might not be on speaking terms.”

  “Exactly.”

  “If you’re right, then we’re in trouble.”

  The heavy vegetation finally parted as Sam and Randall found themselves in a small clearing filled with natives going about their daily lives. Unlike the great sto
ne structures, they had observed in Paititi, this village consisted of more traditional thatched huts and simple fire pits. They walked among the tribespeople who were busy carrying water and grinding down grain to prepare their meals. The contrast between the living conditions of this tribe and the Capanhuaco was remarkable. Paititi was a thriving metropolis with relatively modern luxuries compared to this village. Sam and Randall shared a glance.

  One of the warriors who had captured them, motioned for the two Archeologists to move towards the largest hut in the village. Sam and Randall obliged, slowly making their way to the simple structure. The warrior motioned for them to sit near the entrance while he entered the shelter. After a short time, he reappeared with another man who looked nothing like the other villagers. The new stranger was far taller than the inhabitants, Randall judged him to be nearly six feet tall. He had sandy brown hair and hazel eyes in stark contrast to the dark manes and brown eyes sported by his companions. The new stranger eyed Sam and Randall with suspicion and then re-entered his hut as the warrior motioned for the two scientists to follow him in.

  Upon entering, Randall was shocked by another surprise. The interior of the structure held artifacts entirely out of place for a jungle tribe. An ancient desk with faded and weathered books sat in one corner of the hut. An old globe sat on the ground next to the desk, along with several small steamer trunks, the likes of which were popular with ocean-going travelers in the heyday of luxury liners. Resting on one of the trunks was a picture of distinguished looking gentleman, wearing trousers with suspenders, over a clean button shirt. He was carefully studying a ceramic pot, his glasses perched on the edge of his long, slender nose.

  Randall walked over to the trunk and knelt by the picture. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, a small spark of recognition flashed in Randall’s memory. It took a few moments, but the name eventually came to him.

  “Dr. James Shields,” he said absentmindedly.

  “So you know my father,” the stranger said with a hint of surprise in his voice, his British accent remarkably out of place.

  Randall turned to face him.

  “Dr. Shields was your father?”

  “Who’s Dr. Shields?” Sam asked, feeling left out.

  “Dr. James Shields was the reason I went into archeology. He studied the tribes of the Sacred Valley in depth; embedding himself with them for years at a time. He was the first archeologist to directly confront the notion that the local inhabitants were simple savages completely devoid of any social structure and culture. He demonstrated that the tribes were highly organized with a clear distribution of duties. He also proved that they possessed a rich cultural heritage, based on both spoken and written stories passed down by generations.”

  “What happened to him?” Sam asked.

  “Some of his contemporaries didn’t appreciate him challenging accepted theory, but he had already established himself as one of the foremost experts in ancient Peruvian cultures, so no one dared to confront him. The last time he was seen, he was leaving his base camp with a small contingent of staff.”

  “Where were they going?”

  “They were attempting to map out a path that allegedly ran through the sacred valley. Their goal was to confirm reports of a previously undiscovered tribe that lived somewhere deep in the jungle, but they never returned. Several search parties were sent to look for them, but each was unsuccessful. It was assumed Dr. Shields had simply fallen victim to one of the many dangers of the area,” Randall said, turning back to the picture, and then looking at the tall stranger by his side. “I had no idea he had a son. What’s your name?”

  “My English name is Liam, but this is the first time I have spoken it to someone from the outside world. Your account of my father’s disappearance is accurate but incomplete.”

  “Please, I’d like to know what happened to him.”

  “My father’s party encountered trouble from the moment they broke camp. Two members of his team died when they lost their footing along an ancient crumbling path that ran along the ridge of a small mountain peak. Unfortunately, they were carrying a great deal of the supplies when they fell. The path was unusable so my father had no choice but to press on. The main path they were following lead them directly into the heart of the jungle. Within a few days, they were hopelessly lost. Out of supplies, and exposed to the elements, they began to starve. Two members of the party contracted malaria and needed medicine.”

  “What did they do?”

  “My father set out to search for food, as the remaining healthy member of the party stayed behind to watch over their sick comrades. My father stumbled upon a stream with a small net with fish trapped in it. He took the net and filled a canteen he was carrying with water and went back to his friends. When he got there, the three men were dead. Murdered.”

  Randall sat motionless, listening intently to Liam, mesmerized by the story of what had happened to his archeological role model.

  “My father was overcome with grief and set out to find his friends’ killers. He wandered for some time, unable to find anyone. Cold, tired and starving, he became delirious. He passed out, sure he was about to die, but woke up inside of a thatched hut. He was lying on animal skins, the wounds on his body cleaned and dressed. Still very sick, he was unable to stand. He lay there for some time until a native woman came and fed him. Eventually, one of the elders of the tribe visited him. He spoke a native dialect my father understood and explained they had found him unconscious. The elder invited my father to stay as long as he needed.”

  “So your father went native?” Sam asked.

  “Yes,” Liam replied. “With time he recovered. Overwhelmed with the kindness shown by the tribe he asked if he could stay and try to repay them. The tribe welcomed him with open arms. Their way of life was simple and appealed to my father. He grew accustomed to life in the bush, eventually becoming a full member of the tribe. He used his experience to help the tribe, becoming a trusted member of the group. As his reputation grew, so did his stature in the tribe. The chief asked him to be a shaman for their people. My father proudly accepted. He married a native woman, and she gave birth to me. The one thing my father didn’t abandon was his love for his native tongue. As I grew older, he taught it to me. Until now, I haven’t had much use for it.”

  Randall sat, mesmerized at the story being told by his idol’s son.

  “What an extraordinary story. My God, your father was a legend in the archeology community. If they knew about this, he would be even more revered!”

  “No one will learn of my father’s tale,” Liam said, flatly.

  “You mean my daughter and I can’t tell anyone?”

  “You and your daughter will not be permitted to leave. We are entrusted with guarding the headpiece and the sacred book. One without the other is useless. Someone has taken the sacred headpiece, but possess the book, and we will not allow it to fall into the wrong hands.”

  “So what are you going to do to us?” Sam asked.

  Liam spoke several words in his tribal language, and the warrior guarding the door of the hut exited and returned with three additional warriors.

  “You will be my prisoners until we can find the headpiece,” the stranger motioned for his warriors to surround Sam and Randall.

  “Take them to their cell.”

  Chapter thirty

  Sam and Randall sat on large stones in the cave that served as their make-shift prison cell. The setting sun provided little light from the front entrance as the afternoon faded into the early evening. Randall contemplated their next steps, but couldn’t see an obvious escape. The wooden poles serving as the “bars” of their cell door were thick, and the construction of the entrance was sturdy. Even if they were able to jimmy the cell door, there was the matter of two rather fierce-looking warriors posted outside the entrance to prevent their escape.

  Randall glanced over at Sam, who was deep in thought. No doubt she was assessing the situation, trying to find a way out of their
predicament. Randall smiled. One thing was certain with his daughter; no matter how bad things became, she was determined to find a solution.

  “Any ideas?” Randall asked.

  “None.”

  “The gate looks pretty sturdy,” Randall said, grabbing a pole and trying to move the door. It didn’t budge.

  “There’s no way out the back, either. The cave extends for about 25 feet, but there are no openings or even cracks in the earth,” Sam said, wrinkling her nose.

  “So the only way out is through the front door, and that doesn’t seem likely.”

  “I was thinking our best bet may be to distract the guards. I could pretend to be sick, and when they come in to check on me, we could overpower them.”

  Randall shook his head, “Too dangerous, if it doesn’t work, they might hurt you.”

  “We have to try something.”

  The words had scarcely left Sam’s lips, when one of the guards fell to the ground in a heap, as a huge lump and broken skin formed on his temple above his left eye. The second guard turned in surprise and rushed to his friend to help him. As he did, a small figure appeared from the brush, making a beeline for the distracted warrior.

  The attack was quick and over in a few seconds. The second guard fell to the ground next to his comrade, both men unconscious, but alive. Randall stood in awed shock at the ferocity of the assault and the sheer efficiency of the attacker who moved with feline-like precision.

  After checking to make sure the guards were unconscious, the assailant moved for the entrance of the cell. Randall instinctively stepped in front of Sam, his body tensing for a fight. His eyes struggled with the poor lighting for a glimpse of attacker’s face. He suddenly realized who it was, and his body went slack.

  “Amaro, how in the world did you find us?”

  The cell door swung open.

  “Come my friends, we cannot remain here. I must get you back to my tribe where we can protect you.”