Yupanqui moved around to Hooper’s head and pulled off the gag, and his screams could be heard for miles across the valley. He tried to stand, and with the immense power of the mighty condor’s wings adding to his momentum, he made it upright, his body staggering and stumbling all over the place in a grisly, macabre kind of dance.

  Then he made a terrible mistake. Hooper turned his face to see his attacker, and the condor struck. He rammed his beak into Hooper’s eye, the eyeball bursting in a gooey pulp, and again he screamed, further enraging the wild bird who pecked and jabbed at Hooper’s face until he was unrecognisable beneath the torn flesh and blood. A few more frenzied, relentless seconds, and Hooper collapsed, his death close.

  Yupanqui rushed over and ensnared the bird once more in the sack, and once subdued, he freed the claws from the rope and edged away from Hooper’s shredded body.

  Yupanqui turned to the horrified group, standing helpless nearby. He smiled. “The condor won. That means the Inca won. It is in the prophecy. It was always in the prophecy.”

  Yupanqui then opened the sack and released the condor, which immediately flapped its magnificent wings and flew away, blood dripping from its beak and claws, its huge body soon a silhouette against the sun. Five more seconds and it was gone.

  Hooper was almost dead. Almost, but not quite.

  He’d soon wish he was.

  Untitled

  Two of the Quechuans hauled his destroyed body upright and tied him to a stone pillar.

  Not long now, thought Yupanqui, until we replace five hundred years of shame and defeat with vengeance and a new power. Yupanqui addressed the horrified onlookers.

  “In a few moments,” he said, his voice strong and sure, “we will make the first sacrifice, and undo a lifetime of shameful weakness. We will turn the world on its head. We, the Incan people, will regain our rightful position as rulers, first of the Andes, and then the so-called New World. My reign will mark the start of a new and bloody period in our history. And we will start with him.” He slowly raised his arm, his eyes wild with hatred, and pointed a finger at Hooper.

  Traditionally, the Incans offered their children as sacrifices to their gods. But in this time of need, when all the world was about to change, Yupanqui would have to make do with these heathen adults. So uncivilised were these Catholics, however, they were child-like anyway, and Yupanqui was sure the Gods Pachamama and Inti would approve.

  One thing that bothered Yupanqui was that they offered children because they considered them pure, an untainted offering, but there was nothing pure about Catholics. That was okay though. The Gods would understand. They would accept these offerings, thus accept him as the one Sapa Inca.

  Yupanqui would be free to rule the world.

  Historically, for as long as two years before the day of sacrifice the Inca would over-feed their children, because a healthy, plump child was a sign of wealth and thus a more respectful sacrificial offering. But Yupanqui did not have two years. He did, however have a rotting corn husk, and promptly stuffed the rancid object into Hooper’s mouth. It wasn’t quite what tradition demanded, but the symbolism was important and he would not risk the wrath of the Gods so close to his final victory. He waited more than a minute before yanking the husk out of the gagging mouth, smashing out two teeth in the process as the American choked for air. But it wasn’t over. Far from it.

  Hooper knew what was coming and tried to remain upright and defiant. He tried to appear unafraid. He tried, but he knew he was failing. If there was one thing Howie Hooper knew about his life, looking back now as it neared its end, it was that he wasn’t a good person. There were a few moments he looked back on with pride: his years served with diligence in the U.S. Army, the people he had killed in the duty of protecting his country. But that was about it if he was honest. Not much. A short, unfulfilling life.

  Hooper had a head full of reasons, but in his last moments all he felt was shame.

  Yupanqui approached, and Hooper shrunk away from the Inca leader. Yupanqui loomed just a couple of feet from the desperate American, and their gaze locked. Hooper tried hard to match the Incan’s icy glare, but with his nerves were shot and one eyeball missing, to his ultimate shame he whimpered like a baby, a broken down wreck of his former self.

  Yupanqui relished the first minor victory. He wanted the man to fear him, wanted him to feel dread, and he did. Yupanqui had won. Satisfied, the self-proclaimed Pachacuti turned to the group.

  “It is time.” With his back straight and chest puffed out, Yupanqui’s voice carried authority. It was his moment, where he was meant to be. “This man is a criminal. He has come to our lands to steal what is ours. Not only that, but he has killed two of our Incan brothers, and the death of our Incan family by this Catholic terrorist has only one just punishment. Death. He will pay for his crimes with his life.” He turned back to Hooper. “However, you do have a choice. It is our tradition to offer you a choice of deaths. As it stands, I will burn you alive. But if you admit your guilt, and renounce your Catholic faith, then I will simply shoot you.”

  Hooper's head dropped. Yupanqui had given him an ultimatum, and neither option was good. He looked over at De La Cruz, pleading with his remaining eye for some guidance, and in the Spaniard’s eyes he saw only defiance. No sympathy. No remorse. Nothing. De La Cruz wanted him to resist, demanded with his eyes for Hooper to cling tight to his Catholic beliefs. Howie looked to the sky, searching for a sign from a God who had apparently forsaken him, and the void was vast.

  Yupanqui scanned the eyes of the watching people and saw a wide range of emotions. He admired the Spaniard’s stoicism, not that it would do him any good. He would soon be given the same choice. The woman, Edgewood, was mortified, all colour drained from her face. But among his young Quechuan recruits he saw only pride. This was all so new to them, and he knew they'd seen nothing like this before. But they did not flinch, and his pride was an echo of theirs.

  Just yards away Professor Haines watched on, anger in his eyes, while Evan refused to look. They were powerless to do anything, and even though the American had shot Evan, he didn’t want to witness his murder.

  Yupanqui looked back to the ailing Hooper. “What will it be?”

  Hooper wanted to be strong, wanted to defy the man before him and hold onto his dwindling faith. But the time for bravery had passed, and he could not face being burned to an agonising death. He looked up at the giant man stood before him, the last of his dignity drained away. With tears in his eyes, he whispered, “No fire.”

  “What? Say again,” said Yupanqui.

  “Please, no fire. I am not a Catholic.”

  “Say it again. Louder,” demanded the Incan.

  “I am not a Catholic,” pleaded Hooper, “I beg you, I am not Catholic.”

  De La Cruz seethed, and spat on the floor in Hooper's direction. “You will go to hell for your betrayal.”

  Yupanqui once again turned to the others, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. “This man has proven he is a coward, and he has chosen the coward’s option because he is weak.” He looked over his shoulder at Hooper, slumped against his ropes with heavy sobs racking his body. “It was the last mistake you will ever make.” Facing the crowd again, he bellowed, “There is only one fitting death for a heathen dog such as this, and it will be a death to honour our gods.”

  Yupanqui nodded to one of the porters, who approached his leader and handed him a large plastic tub. He unscrewed the lid and took a step toward Hooper.

  “No,” the American begged, “Please, no.”

  Edgewood closed her eyes, numbed by what she was seeing. She’d never liked Hooper, but this was too much.

  “Stop!” demanded Haines, “Nobody deserves this. Please, use your reason.” He stepped forward, straining against his ropes, but was shoved back by a gun toting porter.

  “On the contrary,” replied Yupanqui. “This is just what he deserves,” and he poured the petrol over Hooper, soaking him from head to toe.

  He took a lighter from his pocket and lit a cloth wound around a stick. He looked at the assembled group, eying them one by one before he looked to the sky. “My Lord God, Inti. My Goddess, Pachamama. Please accept our humble offering. A criminal. A murderer. The enemy. Permit me to exact upon him a revenge in your blessed name. Take his heathen bones from us, and look upon me with your highest favour.”

  Yupanqui stepped back and appraised his victim for the last time. Hooper thrashed against his ropes, shouting a senseless jumble of words, desperate for intervention. But it was futile, and in those last moments the broken man’s bowels emptied, his ultimate humiliation complete.

  And Yupanqui dropped the torch, as he shouted, “Ruphay, Katuliku!” Burn, Catholic!

  Flames erupted in an instant and consumed the screaming American in a glowing fireball, brilliant against the backdrop of grey stone and jungle green. The body thrashed, and the agonised cries continued for a few seconds before falling still and silent, the only sound the thump and crackle of the fire.

  The speed of it all was shocking, and the sheer horror caused Edgewood to unleash a scream so loud it reverberated across the ancient city.

  Haines turned away, unable to watch the macabre spectacle, as did Umaq Huamani. De La Cruz was angry with Hooper for renouncing his faith, but more angry with Yupanqui for his brutality towards the Catholics. For the first time the usually unflappable Spaniard bared his emotion, and raged against his ropes, eyeballs locked on the leader of the uprising. Yupanqui saw the Spaniard’s fury and smiled with satisfaction.

  The agony Hooper suffered in those first seconds was excruciating, like a thousand razors slashing his flesh. It took just half a minute for the flames to incinerate his clothes, and another thirty seconds for his flesh to start cooking. The stench of seared human skin and burned hair drifted to the others. Edgewood fell to her knees and puked.

  Yupanqui stepped closer to Hooper's smouldering remains, adrenaline raging from the enhanced power he felt. He watched as the last of the ropes disintegrated, and the charred corpse crumbled to the scorched earth. It was over.

  Howie Hooper was dead, and the first of Yupanqui’s sacrificial offerings had been made.

  The unmistakable crack of a gunshot shattered the silence, and as it echoed around the ruins, chaos ensued. Yupanqui was swift to dispatch two of his armed boys toward the sound, assuming it came from the kid he had sent after Kane and Ridley. He hoped it meant they were recaptured.

  Preparing for the worst, Yupanqui quickly made ready his next sacrifice, and dragged Edgewood kicking and screaming to a second stone hitching post as Haines looked on. The professor doubted even Yupanqui knew the significance of that post, known as an Intihuatana, a ‘hitching post of the sun’. Five hundred years ago it was how the Incas metaphorically hitched the sun to keep it with them throughout the day. Haines was horrified to see it being put to a far more deadly and horrific use.

  Nothing would stop Yupanqui from his destiny, but he had to move fast. Edgewood was weak, and too in shock to put up much fight, and Yupanqui trussed her tight to the stone post with ease. With all hope lost, and out of her mind with fear, Edgewood shut her eyes and waited to die.

  Yupanqui stepped forward and repeated the same words he used before to appeal for good favour from Inti and Pachamama for his next offering. This time though, the method of murder was different, and Yupanqui grabbed a club-like paddle from a porter. The heavy weapon would strike a killer blow, a more humane death at least, and he stared at the woman before him for a few seconds. He stared at her, and he felt nothing. She had cried for forgiveness, begged mercy of the new Inca leader, which he found amusing. He did not care that she was sorry, that she had renounced Catholicism and sworn allegiance to his cause.

  He did not care at all.

  It was her time to die.

  Saviour

  Yupanqui loomed large over Kate’s slumped body.

  At that moment, the big Incan swung the weighty paddle in a graceful arc behind him, as if it were nothing heavier than a baseball bat. But just as the ancient weapon began its arcing descent Yupanqui was slammed from the side. The surprise was so great, and the impact so forceful, that the weapon clattered to the floor. But before he knew who’d attacked him the paddle smashed into his head and all the world went black.

  Umaq Huamani was stunned. He didn’t know where he had found the courage to attack the giant Inca leader. It was almost like watching someone else, an out-of-body experience. But like some of the others, he had watched on as Yupanqui burned the American to death, and he’d felt nothing, his innate Incan emotions rising with the flames. Hooper was a bad man who deserved to be punished for what he’d done to the others. But the Edgewood woman had offered his family an escape from poverty, a better future, and even if her intentions were immoral, Umaq’s family were his priority.

  She had shown what looked like genuine sorrow for her actions, and Yupanqui had waved away her pleas. Umaq understood Yupanqui’s philosophy, his intentions, and knew the reasons behind it. But Umaq was raised to trust people, give them the benefit of the doubt, and when he saw the fear and terror in the woman’s eyes as Hooper suffered his fate, Umaq believed in her shame.

  Looking on, he knew that if she died today in those mountains, his family would never see the future she had promised, and powered on by a combination of rage and fear and justice, he charged Yupanqui before anyone could stop him.

  Edgewood heard the commotion, and opened her eyes to see her killer in a heap on the floor, the bloodied paddle swinging loose in the hands of the kid, Umaq. And she wasn’t dead. Upon that unlikely realisation, hot tears of relief spilled, her body shaken by violent spasms of shock.

  Still stunned by his actions, Umaq was slow to react as the other Quechuans attacked him, beating him to the rocky ground with a flurry of punches and kicks, but just at the moment one of the porters looked set to strike a killer blow with the same paddle, another gun shot rang out nearby.

  All eyes turned towards the sound, and a second later, Kane and Ridley came bursting into the clearing, Sonco trailing a few seconds behind.

  Kane fired into the air again, the surprise making statues of everyone where they stood. The three Quechuans had just one gun between them, and in shaky hands the boy in possession pointed it at Kane.

  “Sayachiy!” he shouted in Quechuan. Stop! Though no translation was necessary. The boy was unsure, more panicked, confused kid than lethal killer. And Kane thought he looked scared. But the gun remained pointed in his direction, so he stopped. Slowly, and with great care, Kane edged towards the youth.

  “Put it down,” Sonco demanded in Quechuan, though his voice was calm. “Put the gun down.”

  “Mana!” No! he shouted back, but his voice faltered. The boy stared at Sonco, wavering, then looked to the others for support. None was forthcoming, as they each hung their heads in shame.

  Umaq struggled to his feet, his bloodied face a mess. But he stepped forward, and with great bravery stood directly in front of the boy with the gun.

  “Allichu,” he said, his voice soft. Please. “This is wrong. My brother, this is wrong. We were tricked by Yupanqui. Yes, we are descended from the Incas, but we shame their name if we act this way.” He pointed to the Catholics, De La Cruz and Edgewood. “They will get their justice for what they have done, but not this way. This is not the Inca way. Put down the gun, my friend.”

  The young Quechuan did not move, and for long and tense seconds no one watching could guess the outcome. But, ever so slowly and with a hint of tears in his soft eyes, he placed the gun on the ground. Umaq took a step forward and embraced the boy. “Wawqe.” My brother.

  Moving in Kane grabbed the gun from the floor and handed it to Sonco, an intense look of relief on his wizened face.

  Yupanqui stirred. While unconscious they’d secured him with heavy ropes, and once they felt satisfied he and the young Quechuans posed no further threat Kane and Ridley released Evan and Professor Haines from their ties.

  Evan shook his head, tears in his eyes. He didn’t say a word before grabbing his oldest friend in a tight hug, but immediately regretting it for crushing his injury.

  "Let me guess,” said Kane, “You’re pleased to see us?”

  “I… I thought we were finished after he killed Hooper. I felt sure–” He turned to look over at Edgewood, and Kane and the others followed his eyes. Slumped against her bonds, a physical and emotional wreck, tears of relief and shame stained her ashen face. She was a part of all this, Evan knew, and she was right to feel ashamed. Yet somehow he still felt for her, believed her shame. He approached slowly, Kane and the others turning their attention to Yupanqui.

  Trussed ingloriously to that cold stone hitching post, and just seconds from death, Kate was having an epiphany. She said to herself a silent vow, promising to change, to become a better person, and to repay the immeasurable debt of gratitude she had to the boy, Umaq. He had saved her life, and although she believed it was in part because of the money she’d promised, she also wanted to believe that he did it because he recognised her sorrow. Kate Edgewood knew she would spend the rest of her life dedicated to helping those less fortunate than her, and she would start with Umaq Huamani and his family.

  Looking up she saw Evan, and although she knew he might never trust her again, and with much justification, she welcomed his weak smile and took his offered hand.

  Untitled

  Yupanqui stirred in and out of consciousness for an hour before finally regaining his senses. He groaned, severe pain rocking his head, and vomited on the floor. Umaq had given him a tremendous whack with the paddle; it would have killed lesser men. But not only was Yupanqui a giant man, he was also a warrior instilled with the God’s favour. At least that’s what he believed. He straightened, and looked over at Kane and the others. He had not heard Kane’s speech.