Pyramid of the Dead: A Zombie Novel (3 page)

Pizarro
watched as
an array of
b
ody parts flew through the air
, ripped
apart by a
n angry
cannon
ball
. Underneath them
,
r
ows of
men
,
both
young and old,
drop
ped
lifeless
to the ground
as
the
rifle lead riddled their bodies
.
T
he air was rancid with
the smell of sulphur
,
blood
, and death
.

A few
, barely
even
a handful
of the Inca
n
s
somehow
made it through the
heavy
barrage
,
but dozens of
razor sharp
swords were ready for their arrival.
There
was
no
real
chance of success for them once they got through.
All that was waiting was their
rapid
passage to heaven.

The
first ever Spanish-Inca
n
battle was over almost as quickly as it started.
As the smoke and dust
started to
settle,
the full extent o
f the slaughter was
clearly
visible
to all
.
However,
that was not the end of it,
far from it. W
ith a wave of his
hand,
Pizarro
sent
Almargo and
a group of
his soldiers into the fallen
bodies.

*****

It took quite a while for
Almargo
to
return
from
his
trip into the sea of bodies. He and twenty
of his
soldiers
had
carefully
walked
through
the battlefield to
ensure that all
who had fallen
were dead. If any were found
to be
still breathing
,
n
o
t one drop of
mercy was shown
. A
sharp
blade was
quickly
ru
n through
the
ir
heart
.
They had dared to face
the great
Pizarro
in battle
and they
wou
ld learn what it meant to defy this
Spaniard
.

“Colonel, I have
a
list of
the
casualties,” Almargo
said
as he
came over and
stood before
Pizarro
. “We
only
lost three men,
and
four more
received
minor injuries
when they got through our
firing
line. The number of e
nemy dead is approximately seven
hundred, sir.”

Pizarro
proudly
looked out at the
now
still
and silent
battlefield
that spread out
before him.

Only three dead
,
he thought.
Good,
very
good
.

After making a perfunctory
sign of the
cross,
Pizarro
sent his
long serving
friar,
the brown robed
and
permanently
solemn
-
faced
Father
Vince
nte d
e Valverde, into the carnage
to perform
the last rites
sacrament
.
Al
though
he
truly
believed
the bodies before him
had simply been
a bunch of
bloodthirsty
savages that
worshiped
false gods
,
he
somehow
felt
that
it was his
Christian
duty to bestow
some
grace
up
on them.
He
watched
content
edly
as the friar moved
around the battlefield
, chanting his payers and sprinkl
ing the bodies with holy water from his silver vial.

The priest took pride in his task, e
ven in
dealing with
d
eath
,
they
still
show
ed
they were civilised.

3- T
he journey t
o
the
Capital

As
Pizarro
took a few moments to enjoy the handiwork of his
men,
he still
knew
that
this
was no
t the
time to rest on his laurels.
He
was already thinking ahead. He
need
ed t
o get his men moving,
to
get them away from the bay
, and
to do it
quickly.
H
e
would never let
his confidence
get
too high
; he had f
ought
in
far too many battles to indulge in such folly
.
H
o
wever
, there was
one thing
he did know
for
sure;
i
t would be unsafe
and unwise
to stay
here
for
too long
. Defeating the native
s
would have undoubtedly
sent them
a
message,
but
it would only
be
a
matter of time before the Incan
s
got t
heir nerve back and their numbers up
.
T
hey would
surely
try
another
attack
;
t
hey would want
to take
revenge
and rout the Spanish
.
He took one more look
out at the battlefield,
at the
sea of the fallen. I
f his forces
had been
defeated
like that
,
he would already have
a
new
plan
in action.

If his
mission
to claim the gold
was to
succeed
as well as he
hoped,
he needed to get
deep into the empire,
to the capital. They had to go
to
the city
they called
Cuzco and meet with the Inca
n
leader
, the
King
name
d
Atahualpa.
It would be
far
easie
r to be given
all
the gold
he desired
rather than taking it by force.
Pizarro
thought he might
be able
to
trick and lie his way to
obtain
the
prize.
If not,
he was more than prepared to
demand the gold.
A
fter this show of
power,
he hoped t
he threat of
even
more
deaths
would sway
those
negotiations
in his favour
.

S
o
before they even had time to
be
settled in the bay
,
they set
off. A
month of hard marching lay ahead
for
the majority
of his men.
The great
Pizarro
,
his
lieutenants
and
closest allies
,
however
, would
be
riding
through the jungle
in style
,
astride th
e fine
,
white
horses
they
ha
d
brought
with them
.

*****

T
he first two weeks of
the journey
were
uneventful
, though
the elements were
taking
their toll
,
even on
Francisco
Pizarro
.
Sweat streamed
down
his brow as
t
he
y
rode along the jungle paths under the
blazing
summer sun
. He felt as though
he were
being slowly cooked
inside his uniform
.
Looking
at his men as they struggled along in their heavy tunic
s
, breastplates and helmets
,
he almost felt sorry for them
...
almost
.
Almargo
had
even
asked
him
if they could
be allowed to
remove some items
of clothing
,
but
Pizarro
refused
his
m
e
n
s
request
, this was not acceptable
.

They had to show the Incas the
full glory
of Spain a
nd it would
n
o
t be
long
now
before the
y we
re
seen
.
The only surprise was that it had taken
them
so long.

“Have you seen them, sir,” Almargo
asked
as they led their troops through a
long, deep
valley.
He already
suspected
what
the answer
would be
.

“Yes
,
my friend
.
There
are
about a dozen
on each
of
our flanks
,
”
Pizarro
replied casually
as he kept his eyes forward
. “T
hey’ve been following
us
for the last
two
miles
, and t
hey don’t seem
to be worried about being
spotted.
A
ctually
, I believe
they want us
to know we
’
ve seen them. Even so
,
you need to
spread the word
along the line
, tell the men to expect
some
trouble.”

As the hours
slowly
passed
,
the numbers
surrounding t
hem grew
as well
.
Pizarro
had
given orders to pick up the pace of the march and by now, they were moving along at
almost
a brisk jog. He
wanted to get
his men
out of
the valley as soon as
humanly
possible,
for
they all knew
this would be the
perfect
place
for an ambush
.

Just as
the warm
daylight was giving way to
the dullness of the
oncoming
dusk,
they saw the end
.
T
he hills
around them
wer
e beginn
ing to shorten
and
a
large
expanse of
thick
jungle lay
directly
ahead
.
But
any joy
they had
at this
sight
was
short lived
,
as
t
hey
could
also
see
a
mass of
several hundred
Incans
waiting
ahead
.

A
s the Spaniards ground to a halt
,
a
solitary man
split away from the
vast
line of Incan warriors
and
walked towards them
,
his
arms held out wide to show
the Spaniards
he was unarmed.

“Move it
,”
Pizarro
called out
to his men
. “
Hurry, we need to f
orm a d
efensive line.” He ha
d never trusted a savage before and
he
certainly
wasn
’
t going to start this day
. His men
, as always,
followed his orders
without
any
hesitation
and
within moments, a
tight
square was formed
,
the
soldiers’
muskets
were
up and
at the ready.

“My name is Minco,” the
tall, lean
native called out
in fluent Spanish
as he strode
purpose
fully
towards them
. “
Let me come forward and speak.”

All
of
the Spaniards were
shocked
by the man’s
use of their language
. They had never heard a savage
speak so fluently
before.
Even
the
slaves
they kept
at
other ports
for years
could barely manage
a word or two.

“What in god
’
s name
...”
Almargo stuttered.
Pizarro
put his hand o
n his man
’
s shoulder
to quiet him,
and then
walked through the line out into the open.

H
e
glanced back and
whispered another
order
to
his men. “
Hold your fire.
No
one is to shoot
unless
I say so.
I want to hear what this man
has
got
to say.”
He had never been
afraid of battle
,
but
he
was also
old and
wise enough to know
that
there
was
a time and a place for diplomacy.
Especially
in a situation
like this
,
when
the
enemy
before him
held
the ground and the advantage.

In
silence,
t
he two men walk
ed
towards each other and met
directly
in the middle of
the two
mighty
armies
. The
y
stood six feet apart, each man assessing the other for a moment
.
Pizarro
noted that
the man
in front of him
was
a fair bit younger than he
- maybe in his early thirties
. E
ven so
,
his face bore
many
battle
scar
s
,
clear
evidence t
hat
he
must have
fought
in
many a conflict.