The Speaker

The following is an excerpt from my YA manuscript that I've been working on since forever. I happen to like this passage, but I'm not sure why.

“You mustn’t try to prepare yourself for it,” her mother had said instead. “Know that this is not a test and there is no danger. Dispel your worries.”

            Akari was still rolling her eyes in memory of that answer as they followed the trail around a bend and down into a crevasse. A creek rippled at the bottom, feeding a large, drooping tree with bulbous knots. Its thick trunk was like a strongman holding up a world of branches, but as it had grown tired the leafless branches slipped from its grip and bent toward the ground.

            It looked sad, or so Akari thought. How could it not be when most of the trees around had long since dried up?

            “My daughter, this is the Speaker. We transplanted it here so that it might survive, but we do not think it is long for this world.” Arie took Akari’s hand and guided her to the base of the tree. “The Speaker speaks for Seele. When you’ve heard the Speaker, you’ve heard Seele, and that cements the bond.”

            Akari protested, “But I don’t have a bond to cement. I don’t know anything about this Seele. And I’m not full elf. Won’t that have an effect?”

            Eithne, the female elf who had loaned Akari the dress replied, “There is good reason why we did not answer your questions on the rite. You must partake as you are, and not as who you think you should be. Leave your concerns behind you and calm your thoughts.”

            Akari stared at the tree. Was it staring right back?

            Arie motioned for Akari to position herself on her knees, an arm’s length from the trunk. The elves surrounded the Speaker and muttered in the beautiful language Arie had spoken when she aided Mace. The words were in a lax cadence, with a rhythmic inflection strung throughout. Akari watched them and wished she understood what they were saying.

            “No,” her mother whispered. She took Akari’s hand and placed it on one of the knots. “Don’t mind them.” Arie drew some of the Speaker’s sap onto her thumb and smeared it across Akari’s forehead. “Do not mind anything.” Arie kissed her daughter on the head before joining the circle of elves around Akari and the Speaker.

            Akari swallowed. She had a dark feeling that they would be sitting there all night if they expected her to perform some sort of magic. They knew full well that she had not been raised an elf, that she still had no concept of Seele. It was not fair, and their reluctance to answer her questions only annoyed her.

            She grew impatient, tempted by the notion to just run for it, when the sap on her forehead began to warm, drawing her thoughts away from escape. The heat became almost uncomfortable when she smelled a fragrant earthiness. The smell filled her lungs, and when the air reached her brain, her body fell forward against the knot, her hand barely saving her face from the bark. She tried to push herself up, but couldn’t. She couldn’t move.

            After the paralysis came numbness, save for the burning on her forehead. She could not feel her lungs inhaling, and she panicked, but she could not even feel her heart race. A tiny bug crawling across the ancient bark of the Speaker was the last thing she saw before blindness set in.

            Akari cursed the elves in her mind. This was not the unconsciousness of sleep, but it was the helplessness that had plagued her her entire life. Her thoughts were frantic, wondering if all this were normal, or if she were an anomaly. The absence of her senses, of not being able to move—she knew no thing more terrifying. But soon, her thoughts were deafened by the absolute silence, and it beckoned her to be the same.

            Silent. Like she wasn’t there.

            Akari allowed herself to disappear.