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including us. Some of his organs will have started
to deteriorate, so he will have issues at first, but the body will
start to restore itself immediately. Since he does not have any
fatal injuries he should come back physically intact after spending
some time healing.”
    “Spiritually, he will have little control. He
will feel no pain. He will be unable to plan or communicate. His
only instinct will be to attack.”
    “He will be extremely strong but will not be
as coordinated as he once was. Whether this is due to a lack of
physical or spiritual ability, I do not know. He will still be able
to be killed by a fatal injury to the head. He will still require
food, water and air, but will never need to sleep.”
    Marik broke into the conversation at this
point and asked, “What about the larvae? Would they sustain him or
devour him?”
    The shaman considered the question. “I am not
sure. I think a more interesting question is whether the larvae
would alter him, or if he would alter the larvae. The spirit of the
ransi flower controls his actions like an illness overwhelming the
body. There is a chance the spirit from the flower will infect the
larvae as well. We must be careful before letting them escape into
the world.”
    Looking through the door Marik saw a bright
fire suddenly flare in the distance.
    “The father flies away to be with his
ancestors,” Marik said. “I need to make sure the son never makes
the same trip.”
    “When the son’s spirit is released we must
send him to be with his ancestors as well. We cannot leave him to
wander the forest forever alone.”
    “When we are done with him we should deliver
his dissected body to his own tribe. I will not give him the rest
you think he deserves.”
    “It is good for his spirit you are not the
one making the decision then.”
    The shaman continued with the instruction.
“There is still a lot of work to do. The first step is to secure
the body as tightly as possible as we did with his father. We do
not want him to get loose and start attacking. We must be prepared
to feed him so I have sent out men to find squirrels and rats. A
blindfold will keep him calm, as well as that…”
    The old man pointed to a bottle on the
opposite side of the hut. “Bring me the green bottle.”
    Marik walked over to get it and brought it to
the shaman.
    “This is made from crushing the root of the
monrath plant and collecting its juices. You will apply it in small
doses to his food. One drop will keep him calm for many hours. It
would cause you or me to sleep like the dead for a day, but will
only keep him from straining to kill you whenever you get
close.”
    “Are you ready to do your part Marik,” the
shaman asked. “I need a great deal of blood.”
    “Yes,” the boy answered simply.
    The shaman produced a narrow pale tube made
from a bamboo stem. “Sit over here with your arm fully inside this
tube. You must keep your arm inside until there is enough blood. I
will tell you when.”
    Marik placed his arm inside the hollow tube.
He winced as the shaman expertly placed the metal knife up near the
bend in his arm and blood started to swiftly flow down towards his
hand.
    The old man watched patiently from his chair.
After a few minutes he went to stand behind the boy to steady his
wobbling body. The bamboo tube swiftly filled, and when there was
enough the shaman carefully staunched the flow before removing
Marik’s now bloody arm.
    “Now is a good time to get some sleep,” Tanis
said, knowing the boy was weak and had a long night ahead. He
helped Marik over to a simple blanket on the floor where he quickly
dozed.
    The old man mixed a portion of the blood with
the other ingredients he had been concocting and continued the
preparation for the afternoon’s activity while Marik slept.
     
    ~ Chapter
XIII ~
     
    Marik struggled to see everything that was
happening. The shaman was moving quickly around the dead body which
was now bound to the floor at the wrists, ankles,