Death of the Incan Gods

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Technomuaco was worried.

For days his gods had remained silent and he was getting more and more nervous they might be dead. He hadn’t received any dreams since that last one, well over a month ago. In his vision, he had dreamt of scary-looking, human-like demons taking over the sky. The demons had fought against the deities such as Mama Occala, the ocean goddess, and Inti, the Sun God, as well as many others. Technomuaco had awakened with a start, gasping for air, the thunder of the demons’ weapons still echoing in his ears. He was worried, but he couldn’t tell his dreams to the Inti priests in the temple, nor anyone else. Though he knew it was his duty to discuss his vision with Uilca Huoco, the high priest of the temple, he maintained his troubled silence.

Technomuaco was the Huacap Rimanchi, the seer of the main temple in Collasuyu province, and his words carried great weight with Uilca Huoco. Since the death of the king Sapa Inca Huyana Capac, and the war between his two sons over the throne of the Incas, the messages of the gods had become even more important to their ayllu, community.

But Technomuaco couldn’t talk. For over a month, he’d kept silent about the emptiness of his dreams, too anxious to dare voice his fears that their gods might now be dead.

He raised his eyes towards the doorway of the temple, where the sweet scent of the coca leaves drifted in the bright sunlight, and sighed. He turned his eyes away from the massive stone walls. Slowly, wearily, he allowed his bare feet to take him down the stairs to the dry sandland with the tired steps of an old man.

Still they sacrificed and burned their coca leaves, as the virgins of the Sun God prepared chicha from corn in the centuries-old tradition. The burden of the man was heavy. What would his people do, if they learned that their work was in vain?

Maybe the gods are angry with me, Technomuaco pondered tiredly, and no longer wish to share their sacred wisdom anymore? These thoughts were as distressing as the previous ones. To sooth his uneasiness, Technomuaco made his way toward the gardens of Virucocha, to the oasis of lush green foliage and gushing streams. He hoped the peace of the garden would finally bring rest to his troubled mind.

Technomuaco was barely aware of the stony pillars and huge walls towering around him, reaching toward the sky like the white peaked mountains. The sun shone brightly and summer was slowly turning into autumn. Down in the valleys, the weather would be burning hot, but here along the lower mountainside of the southern area of Collasuyu, it was pleasantly warm and fresh. High above him, the burning red lava fields and the cold icebergs would carve their niche on the landscape near the sky.

He sighed again as he caressed the plates in his ears with callused palms. Today their weight didn’t comfort him, even though they stamped him a sacred man. Suddenly he was filled with the overwhelming urge to rip them off along with his ceremonial coat, which was adorned with condor feathers. Technomuaco felt a burning desire to run away to some distant village at the end of the Recta del Tin Tin, to the place where his mother had labored and raised him. But alas, no...

Slowly he lowered his hands, resisting the desire to shed the symbols of his sacred office. He was the seer of the Sun God, and it was his duty to remain here in the temple of the Sun. It was his duty to serve his people and his gods.

Technomuaco sighed again, and lowered his gaze which was heavy with the weight of his worries. He stared his feet as they led him further inside the Garden of Virucocha, named for a creator god of the Incas.

In the distance, he heard the sound of the metal against metal, as young boys practiced swordplay, preparing for next year’s initiation ritual into adulthood. The young girls worked in the shadows of clay buildings, weaving the fine textiles made from the wool of the alpaca and vicuña as they sang praises to Virucocha, Inti and Pacha Mama, the Mother Earth. Life continued just as it had for generations, yet still Technomuaco couldn’t shake this feeling of anxiety that was washing over him in waves.

The summer was nearly gone and the air was warm. Nature bloomed, as if blessed by Pacha Mama herself The cornfields were ripe with golden kernels, and gentle rain had just fallen on the dry earth that had yearned for moisture these past weeks. Soon it would be time for the crop gathering, and the tax collectors would arrive from Cuzco to raise mit'a for their new Sapa Inca, Atahualpa. The tax revenues were sorely needed, as the last few years had been very hard in all four corners of the kingdom.

Technomuaco's thoughts wandered back to the previous years and the civil war their society had experienced. His feet stopped of their own accord, and he sat down on a low stone bench near the huaco of the garden. His fingers rose to gently touch the smooth cover of the sacred stone and a prayer grew from deep within his heart. He prayed the gods would give him even a small sign of their continued favor.

Silence. He felt and heard nothing, not even a whisper. Technomuaco lowered his arms and stared with empty eyes at the green garden spread out before him.

“Huacap Rimanchi Technomuaco...?" A feminine voice broke in on his abysmal thoughts with a soft question. "Is everything alright?"

His eyes moved toward the speaker and his features, which had been marred with troubles, smoothed momentarily. His mouth curved in a gentle smile and he heaved a sigh. "Idaro..." Technomuaco looked at the young Inca girl who stood in front of him. She was not only a virgin, dedicated to the Inti, she was also his beloved niece, and one of the few joys left in his life.”

The girl knelt down with respect. Technomuaco was the seer of Inti and it was her duty to show consideration for him. She set down the clay pot she had been carrying, and the sweet scent of chicha filled his nostrils. The girl was apparently taking the corn drink to be stored for the evening's ceremony.

"Is everything alright Huacap Rimanchi Technomuaco?" She repeated her question carefully. "You seem worried..."

A dark expression rose on his face at her question. "Didn't the women teach you better?" His words were sharper he intended, "or aren't you aware that it isn't your duty to question elder ones?"

Her face turned red with shame as she hastily lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry Huacap Riamanchi!" The girl whispered in a small voice. "It wasn't my intention to offend you, but you seemed so distressed..." A gentle breeze blew her hair to cover her face. Her dark curls shone in a bright contrast against her light-grey dress. Idaro placed her hands on the sand, making ready to rise to her feet. "I won't bother you any longer."

"Don't!" His voice softened and he placed his hand on her shoulder. "Stay with me." Technomuaco ordered the girl. She tensed, but obeyed him, remaining on her knees.

Far in the distance they could hear the soft singing of the women and the laughter of the warriors. The wind rustled through the leaves in the garden trees and the dry sand shifted quietly in the light breeze.

"How is your brother?" Technomuaco asked when the silence between him and Idaro had lasted an uncomfortably long time, too long for his taste. Dark thoughts had clouded his mind again, though he tried desperately to hold them at bay.

The girl raised her eyes shyly toward the aging priest. “He’s fine, sacred Technomuaco. “ She answered softly. “He’s very proud of his approaching initiation.” A small smile appeared on her face as she continued. “But at the same time, I think he might be a little scared leaving his childhood behind him.”

The weary old man nodded, remembering his own midsummer’s festival when he’d run the course between the temple and his village. It felt like that day had happened ages ago.

“He’ll bring honor to our family yet, Huacap Rimanchi.” Idaro added timidly encouraged by his gesture.

Technomuaco’s lips twisted slightly and his face, creased by the years, softened as he gazed upon his niece, who was still knelt before him. “And how about you, my dear?” Technomuaco asked, using a nickname he’d given to Idaro many years ago.

She nodded her head. “I’m fine, Uncle.” She answered. The bright sunlight reflected off her curly, dark hair. “The women in the temple had been very kind to me...” She blushed again. Seeing her humiliation stabbed Technomuaco’s heart.

Though she had already passed her sixteenth birthday and was the virgin of Inti, the girl remained here in the southern temple of Collasuyu instead of sharing her life with the other girls within the sacred walls of Cuzco. Idaro remained here, but it caused her great shame. Technomuaco knew how much she still hoped to be able in traveling to Cuzco, to be near the sacred Sapa Inca, Atahualpa.

It was because of her sickness. In Idaro’s thirteenth year, an order had arrived from Cuzco summoning all the young girls of the temple. The illness had kept Idaro in the bed nearly a year and raised strange boils on her soft skin, thus preventing her from participating in the selection ritual. By all accounts, she should have departed from this life to the next one, but the gods had been merciful. Miraculously, she had suddenly recovered but permission to enter in Cuzco had remained prohibited to her.

It was well over three years now, Technomuaco remembered. As the tension had increased, and finally flared into civil war between the northern and the southern clans, she’d stayed here in Collasuyu.

Secretly Technomuaco believed the gods willed that she stay here to brighten his days. For who couldn’t love Idaro? She was gently by her nature, well-mannered and intelligent.

Maybe...Technomuaco thought it was better she hadn’t left for the sacred town? Who knew what would have happened to her there? The times were restless. Although her beauty might have made her a concubine for the precious Sapa Inca, after the hostile take-over of Atahualpa, Idaro would have shared the fate of the other concubines: death.

These thoughts circled darkly in his head as Technomuaco’s hand rose to caress Idaro’s dark curls. “I rejoice in hearing you enjoy staying with us.” He told her gently and the girl lifted her face. Her dark eyes were shining with the hint of unshed tears.

“I live only for the laws of Inti and the sacred Virucocha.” Idaro answered. “I do as our ayllu demands from me.” Her words were set, but they brought an oddly uneasy feeling in Technomuaco’s heart. His fingers lingered a moment longer on her soft cheek, reluctant to let her go about her duties.

”You bring credit to our family’s name, Idaro.” Technomuaco answered with a tremulous voice. Idaro was like his own daughter and silently he was overjoyed that she was forced to remain here, rather than residing in the distant Cuzco. He was forbidden such familial feelings, Technomuaco knew this. His loyalty belonged to Inti above all else. But over the years, Technomuaco’s heart had softened, while his love toward Idaro had grown stronger.

He shook his head to banish these thoughts. They were shame to him, but he couldn’t deny them. “Continue your works.” He told Idaro. “Chicha doesn’t stay good for long in direct sunlight.” At her uncle’s advice, the girl nodded and stood nimbly to her feet. Briskly the girl brushed the dust away from her alpaca wool dress before picking up the clay pot in her arms.

“Good day to you, Huacap Rimanchi Technomuaco, brother of my father.” She smiled to the priest and left Technomuaco to sit alone in the cool shadows of the garden, his dark thoughts settling like a smothering cloak over his mind once again.

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”Huacap Rimanchi!” One of the servant boys of the temple ran to catch up with the man as he entered the yard.

“What?” Technomuaco halted, awaiting for the boy to deliver his message. The boy, who had just passed his rite of the adulthood if Technomuaco remembered rightly, bowed hastily at him.

“The great Uilca Huoco wants to meet with you.” The boy explained courteously, still bent low in a subservient pose. “He himself sent me to look for you.”

“You say so...?” Technomuaco muttered restlessly. He’d been afraid of this for a long time. Technomuaco had done his best to avoid conversation with Uilca Huoco, mostly because he knew the man craved knowledge from the gods. He had none, just as he had had none during their last meeting. But he hardened his thoughts, and with as little emotion as possible, he questioned the boy: “Where does he wait for me?”

“In the main hall in the temple of the great Inti, respected Rimanchi Technomuaco.” The boy answered, and the old man nodded.

“I thank you for the information. I’ll seek him by myself and you can go along with your other duties.” Technomuaco said carefully as the boy bowed again.

“Thank you, respected Huacap Rimanchi.” He sounded relieved to have completed the arduous task of finally finding the priest and delivering his message. Technomuaco said nothing more to the lad, but turned on his heels and headed for the main temple, where Huoco awaited.

The older priest had been pacing impatiently for some time now, measuring the stone floor with his steps. The burning torches emitted light smoke, and the sunlight coming from the open windows multiplied as it reflected from the gold decorations and holy pictures of their gods. The gold-tinted radiance warmed the room, which was normally cool and obscure.

Huoco’s eyes narrowed with annoyance and he moved restlessly when Technomuaco finally stepped inside the hall and approached, slowly bowing to his superior. “An Inca is never late, nor does he allow others to wait for him!” The man snapped. “I shall cut your feet off if you do it again!”

His bluish bonnet nearly swung off his head as he tossed his dark-haired head with an infuriated gesture, and Technomuaco lowered his eyes in shame. Huoco was only a few years his senior, but he succeeded in making Technomuaco feel decades younger. Not to mention the man was higher in the hierarchy, and receiving a scolding from his superior was never a pleasant experience for Technomuaco, despite of his age.

“I apologize to you, respected Uilca Huoco.” The priest said carefully. “Your messenger found me only recently. I came as soon as I received your message.”

Huoco waved his hand dismissively, unwilling to listen the excuses of his scholar. Sometimes it almost seemed to Technomuaco that Huoco never gave him any more time than was absolutely necessary. His movements, voice and gestures were always hasty. He was a busy and future-oriented man, very different from Technomuaco.

“I’m in the need of your advice, Technomuaco.” Huoco said with an impatient voice as his features creased, and he resumed his restless pacing on the stone floor.

”I’m at your service, Uilca Huoco.”

He stopped and stared fiercely into the furrowed face of Technomuaco. “I want to know if the gods have delivered any messages to you.”

Technomuaco’s heart stopped beating for a moment. The question was anticipated, but he couldn’t restrain his sudden tremor. There was a maleficent look in the dark eyes of Huoco and he was clearly in a bad mood. Technomuaco lowered his head hesitantly before answering.

”I’m sorry. I have received nothing from our gods.” He wasn’t able to lie at Huoco, though today he wished he could.

The man grunted and a thoughtful, worried look shadowed his gaunt face. It disappeared almost immediately. “Are you certain?” He repeated and Technomuaco nodded.

“Truly. I’ve heard nothing.”

“You lie!” Huoco snarled unexpectedly. ”The shaman of a nearby village has come to me nearly every day now, shedding tears and begging for help! He says he sees terrible visions in which alien demons attack our gods and slay them the way we might slay guinea pigs!” The high priest took a step closer to him and his dark eyes shimmered with rage. “I’ve heard you moaning and twisting during the nights. You are hiding something from me!” Huoco’s expression was now a menacing scowl and his heavy, golden ear plates, which had turned turquoise with age, swooshed angrily in the air.

”Merciful Uilca Huoco! Noble teacher of the Inti’s Way, and member of the sacred room of the Sapa Inca!” Technomuaco flung himself on his knees at Huoco’s feet in terror. ”I speak the truth!!” He pressed his face against the floor, too scared to do anything else. “I haven’t received a single vision from our gods for over a moon cycle now!”

“So you received one, but only long ago?” Uilca Huoco asked, his anger calming quickly with the assurance that Technomuaco was still loyal to him and their aully. Then his temper flamed yet once more. “And still you left it unmentioned?”

“I apologize, oh gracious master!” Technomuaco sobbed, ashamed when caught in his lie. ”I did not know what to do or to say!” He raised his pained gaze to Huoco. “My vision was so dreadful and I was afraid it might be true.” His face held terror as he relived the dreams. ”I dreamt that those demons attacked our gods with odd fire-breathing weapons as they rode the clouds. I dreamt they slay each of them...” He shook his head, and the color had drained from his face, leaving his dark skin pale and grey. ”I’ve prayed since that dream each night that the gods would reveal their will to me, but I’ve heard nothing from them...”

Technomuaco cared nothing about the scrapes and bruises that his sudden collapse to the ground had caused him. “Merciful Uilca Huoco! I feel myself at a loss, and I’m afraid our gods might be gone!”

”Don’t just lay there!” Huoco snarled, giving Technomuaco’s arm a soft kick, and the prostrate old man raised his eyes questioningly at the highest priest of Collasuyu.

”Don’t mock the undying ones and our gods in such fashion, especially not in a place as holy as this!” The man snarled and his face wore a contemptuous expression. His darkened ear plates swung beside his head as he looked down on Technomuaco. “The gods haven’t delivered any messages to us because they require a sacrifice!”

”But it was only a short time ago when we presented them with llamas, coca and tobacco...” Technomuaco pondered in awe, still on his knees in front of the high priest.

The man smiled, but his smile held no warmth, and Technomuaco felt a chill seize his heart. ”We have sacrificed the wrong things.” The priest finally answered, a taunting leer deforming his gaunt face. ”The gods require one of our own kind this time. I say now is the time for a human sacrifice.”

Technomuaco hesitated before asking him, fearing the answer before it was given. “Are you certain, Uilca Huoco?”

”Yes, I am, Huacac Rimanchi,” Huoco answered him in an icy voice that froze Technomuaco’s blood in his veins. ”The gods require a victim, and a victim they shall receive threefold. I’ve already sent the women to prepare the sacred chosen ones.”

”If I am allowed to ask,” Technomuaco spoke after a small moment. ”Might I know the identities the ones to be sacrificed?” All the color drained from his face when Huoco gave his answer.

“Two children from the nearby village...” The man’s expression was solemn, but he hesitated for a brief moment before revealing the identity of the last victim, “…and your niece.”

Technomuaco stared the priest, his voice paralyzed as shock and grief numbed his senses, then he felt like his heart would wither away in his chest. Idaro... They intended to sacrifice his Idaro!

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Technomuaco walked down the mountainside behind the consecrated parade. He was cloaked in depression. His beautiful and beloved niece, Idaro, was now a cold, lifeless shell. Technomuaco had tried to secretly separate Idaro’s fingers from the other two sacrifices, grasping them in desperation. He had squeezed them in his hands and hoped for some small sign of life, a miracle. He had hoped that, if the gods were alive, they might grant him this one request, that they would send her back to him from death, away from the otherworld, back to the living. He had prayed she would open her beautiful eyes again and smile, but no. Idaro had drunk her poison, and it seemed she had done so with all true passion of the Inti devotee. Now her body was nothing but an empty shell. Her spirit was gone.

The years would turn and the ground would be covered by snow and ice once more, and the flowers on the children’s graves would wither away. The worms wouldn’t destroy Idaro’s beautiful tomb, but Technomuaco didn’t receive any comfort from this thought. The cold would shelter his niece. Death would stiffen her limbs, freezing her crossed legs and closed eyes for eternity. Her dark hair would cascade over the ornamented ceremonial gown, the soft, shining curls drying to a stiffly matted mantle. Idaro’s body would live eternally buried within the earth, but thinking about it didn’t bring comfort to Technomuaco. Her beauty was gone and this knowledge brought him no joy. Her body was an empty temple, a reflection of what had once been a vibrant, loving soul; all that had made her beautiful was gone.

Maybe someday, Technomuaco thought, others would walk up the mountainside to see the line between the sky and the land; looking for gods to whom Technomaco’s dear child had been given away. Others would come to call on the gods. But the gods were dead. Deep within his heart, Technomuaco knew that now. They would leave this place, their prayers unanswered. Instead of the gods, the people would find the frozen bodies of the children, and maybe their discovery would stun them.

Idaro was dead for nothing; and never again would she raise her eyes to look upon her uncle with a small smile on her face. He would never again see the feathers shining against the darkness of her hair, and he would never again marvel at the blush of her delicate skin in moments of excitement or joy. The gods had been killed long ago, and his beautiful Idaro was dead because of them. She was killed by desperate men for gods that were already dead.

The burden of Technomuaco was heavy. How long before his people discovered the truth? And when they did, would they sacrifice him, too, just as he’d done to Idaro? Would he be buried into the eternal ice as well?

Guilt and shame haunted Technomuaco as he pondered that night, standing alone in front of the entrance of the temple, gazing at dark sky full of stars. Guilt and shame were the only emotions he knew anymore. His dreams had deserted him, leaving his greatest prayers and hopes unanswered: he no longer saw visions or heard voices. His sleep was hollow and obscure, and Technomuaco had awakened sweaty and gasping for air on his pallet on the floor.

His comrades had slept when Huacac Rimanchi, the seer of the gods, had bolted from his dreams, dreams that had told him nothing. He had gotten to his feet and signaled the guards to remain at their stations while he walked out onto the terrace of the temple ground.

Below him thousands of tiny lights flickered in the dark valley. They were the fireplaces of his people. The town was silent and Technomuaco’s soul felt heavy.

It took a moment from him to realize he wasn’t alone. Someone else huddled on the terrace in the dark besides himself. Technomuaco could perceive even in the darkness that the man wore hat and antique turquoise-colored ear plates: Uilca Huoco was awake as well.

Technomuaco smoldered as grief pierced his heart. How would the other man react if he knelt again, but this time to spit on Huoco’s feet? How would he react if Technomuaco denied his superiority in a moment of rage? Would the man order the palace guards to kill him immediately or would he forgive him? Technomuaco shook his head resignedly. He was too old to act in such a way. He had sacrificed one time too many; lost one time too much. He had nothing else except his faith and his station. He remained silent.

Surprisingly, it was Uilca Huoco who said the first word.

"The wind is cruel tonight," the man said softly. "It bears a strange scent with it.” He raised his face and sniffed the night air like an animal smelling his surroundings. “It smells of metal, blood and destruction...” His raspy voice tore at the wounds within Technomuaco, wounds that time had not even begun to heal.

He pondered his answer, but satisfied himself with only a nod. Huoco didn’t seem to mind his lack of response as he continued to stare down the valley. They stood for some time side-by-side on the stony terrace in silence. The wind grew strong and Technomuaco trembled as feeling it against his skin. Huoco was right: the wind carried cruelty and destruction along with it.

Huoco turned to look at the seer next to him and his rough, expressionless face trembled little. Maybe it was compassion? Who knew? Huoco’s mind was a mystery to Technomuaco. The man was like gold: hard, but soft at the same time.

"She had to die." The man finally spoke, and Technomuaco couldn’t bear to answer him.

He lowered his eyes as the grief inside him started to grow, and the meaning of Huoco’s words hit him like the man had punched his stomach with a hard fist. And the priest’s unspoken words chimed in his head. She had to die because you loved her... Technomauco was the seer of the gods and the pillar of his ayllu. He wasn’t allowed to have any other commitments.

"Go back to sleep, Huacac Rimanchi." Huoco’s voice was quiet as he turned to look the valley again. "Go back inside to your dreamless dreams." He gave his order with a reluctant sigh, and silently, Technomuaco turned his back on the older priest.

As he stepped back inside the dusk that resided in the temple room, the old man felt his insides starting to unfold itself. His heart was fading, diminishing, as though it’d been pierced with a burning sword. The tears welled in his eyes but he wasn’t ashamed nor did he try to hide them. He walked slowly back inside the temple, and the salty tears ran down the furrows in the skin of his weather-beaten face. He cried for his heart and all the dreams he had finally lost after all these years.

Behind him Uilca Huoco sighed, knowing Technomuaco was mourning for the death of his niece. He lowered his eyes to his hands and quipu the messenger had delivered him just moments ago from Cuzco. The man grasped the quipu more tightly, unwilling to see the message it contained. The quipu carried only one knot tied with a black string, and Huoco understood the meaning of it very well. He lifted his eyes toward the dark sky and let his hands to fall down by his side, feeling himself older he had felt in ages.

The black color and that knot in the quipu always meant war and death.