She doesn’t object, and so I lift her into my arms. With one arm around my neck, she clings to me as she swings her other arm, trying to swat them away.
“Don’t do that.” I capture her arm, trying in vain to cover it as even more sprites swarm toward us. “The more you fight them, the more will come.”
My pain is beyond intense now. Rosomon is not only smaller, this is her first sprite attack, and I can only imagine how painful and terrifying this is for her. I stagger as quickly as I can down the path, holding her in my arms as she yelps and twists.
“Try to ignore them.” A swarm attacks my ears, and I fight to follow my own advice, but the pain is like a thousand hot spikes.
“Stop,” Rosomon says. “Look. Back there.”
I look in the direction she’s pointing, but see nothing but more forest, the same as it looks in every other direction—dark and ominous and full of death.
“Can we go that way? It’s so beautiful.”
“My queen.” I hold her tightly. “There’s nothing there but trees.”
“Can’t you see the gardens?” she asks. “The path? The fountain?”
Rosomon’s hallucinating. Fear takes hold of my chest in a way I’ve never felt before. Have the sprite’s stingsalreadydriven her mad? What will I do without my wife’s wise council, and her ability to calm me?
“There’s nothing there, my queen,” I whisper softly in her ear. “We must continue on the path. It’s headed in the right direction.”
She shakes her head, struggling in my arms and pointing, as I stride down the path.
A massive swarm of sprites attacks us, and I drop down into a crouch, holding her and trying to protect her body with my own.
“Please,” she says. “Take the other path.”
“There is no other path.” How can I convince her there’s nothing there? “Rosomon,” I say softly. “You’re hallucinating. It’s only the sprites.”
She nods. “I know it’s the sprites. They’re showing us the way.”
She’s so far gone. But… I rise back to standing. While we’ve been stopped, the stinging has lessened. I take two strides down the path, and they attack again.
“Go back,” Rosomon cries out in my arms. “That way!” Her eyes are full of certainty and desperation.
“How do you know?” I ask softly.
She shakes her head. “I don’tknow, it’s just… What if the sprites’ stings are awarning?”
I let that settle in with the other knowledge I have about sprites. Some believe they’re distant cousins of the fae, but the fae take no responsibility or interest in sprites. And given the markings on that map, I suspect that even the fae avoid this forest. Certainly, the elves do. Frankly, I know nothing of the tiny creatures, beyond the pain and mischief they cause. I’ve never considered that they might have intelligence or a way to communicate with other species.
“Youreallysee another path?” I ask Rosomon. “Are you sure it’s not a hallucination?”
“Let me down,” she says. “If you can’t see the path, I’ll lead you.”
I still believe she’s suffering from sting madness, but as long as we don’t go too far off track, it can’t hurt to let my wife win thissmall battle of wills. And until we go the direction she wants, I can’t prove her wrong.
The swarming sprites have backed off for the moment, so I set her feet on the ground. Taking my hand, she tugs me back down the brick path, and then into the forest.
As we step off the path, it’s thick with branches, but I’m shocked to find our passage relatively easy. And so far, the sprites have left us alone.
“This way.” Rosomon leads me through the underbrush, dodging trees and walking as lightly and easily as if we were on a gravel path through well-groomed gardens. It’s possible that’s what she sees.
Curious, I drop her hand and turn back toward the main path.
Instantly, sprites attack my face so brutally I have to close my eyes. I swat against them, but their numbers multiply. I know better than to bat them away but can’t help myself. It’s too painful.
I crouch, trying to decrease the surface area available for attack.
