Dark Confluence

by Rosemary Fryth

  She had read various sites that she would normally dismiss as at best dodgy, and at worst, outright loony. These sites dealt with leylines, those mysterious paths claimed to be channels of mystical energy. Linking ancient Neolithic sites in England and Europe, the New Agers claimed that these lines or paths channelled natural energy. Leylines were also supposedly present in Australia, although the online maps of such lines were crude and scarce.

  It seemed that some people even claimed that Uluru was a key focus of earth power and there were even maps of leylines radiating from the natural monolith. She also read about spirit paths, or corpse roads, those track ways and paths made for transporting the dead to their final resting place. It seemed possible that fairies could use both leylines and corpse roads to travel, and perhaps Emerald Hills lay along one of these roads.

  Jen stretched and heard her joints pop in protest. This was all supposition. There was no hard evidence that such paths existed. In addition, there was no hard evidence that the Fae existed either. Yet her direct experience was that they did so, then ipso facto the fairy roads existed also. In order to reach this conclusion, Jen had to abandon her innate skepticism. It seemed since the Fae existed, then it was likely they travelled along unseen roads oozing natural power, and one of those paths lay directly through Emerald Hills.

  Jen shook her head, still puzzled. If the Fairy road had existed for many years, perhaps even forever, why then was it now that the problems were happening? Jen remembered Tom explaining how fifty years ago Anna had sensed the Fae. However, it seemed that what had happened then had faded; vanished of its own accord. So what had changed? Why was it starting up again? Fionn had told her to stop what was being done, but still she had no idea what he had meant. She guessed that the perpetrators were human agents of the rebel fairy court, and that they had moved into the area and were possibly changing things that affected the Fairy road. Jen frowned, this was all guesswork, and she doubted a word of it would hold up in a court of Law.

  For a brief moment, she considered the construction of the underground power lines, and then laughed at her own absurdity. This work was coordinated by council, state government and through the power companies. It would be ludicrous to consider that the Government could be actively aiding the rebel Fae.

  Jen paused, and drew an unsteady breath, considering another alternative. What if the Government did it inadvertently, and that, by putting the power underground it had affected the road and all that were bound to it? Could that be what was happening? Did the Government know what they were doing or were the rebels manipulating Government itself? Maybe they were manipulating the activist groups that leaned on Government and the electricity company. Tom had spoken of one, what was it...EGAG, EGOG, EHOG? Jen groaned, so many questions, so few answers, and the answers she was coming up with seemed too far-fetched to be true.

  Jen put that puzzle to the side, instead addressing the questions of why; why now and why Emerald Hills? Jen massaged her temples. She was starting to develop a headache. With some relief, she decided to turn off the laptop and close its lid. The questions could wait; she could not concentrate with the growing hammering behind her temples. It was time for a painkiller and a nap. Jen locked the house and turning down the coverlet, lay down and went to sleep.

  *

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, the people of Emerald Hills awoke to the mist still shrouding the town. For an area unused to such conditions, it was an unsettling experience, but people accepted the situation and began their daily routines. Life could not stop or slow for mere vagaries of the weather.

  Robert White opened his classroom door and turned on the lights. To say the least, the fog had made the usual drive to school interesting, so he was glad to be out of the car and at the school. Unhurriedly, he finalised his lesson plans for the day, and laid the textbooks out on the tables for his small class of thirteen primary school-aged children. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that one of the overhead lights was flickering, and as he watched it, the light went dark, followed immediately after, by the light next to it. Frowning, he waited for more lights to blow, but the others still shone brightly. Shrugging his shoulders, he dismissed it. Surely, it must just be a malfunction in the electrics. He would let the school maintenance man know as soon as practical.

  Picking up his laptop bag, he closed the door and walked down the corridor to the building that housed the staff room. As usual, there was a staff meeting this morning, and Robert planned to be early, so he would have time to speak to the Principal about some matters. Although he was only in his late thirties, Robert was a big man and he wheezed slightly as he walked. Every day he meant to do something about his weight, but by the end of the workday, he was usually exhausted and only had energy enough to deal with the schoolwork required for the next morning, prepare a meal and go to bed.

  Thankfully, he reached the staffroom and sat down on a comfortably cushioned fabric chair. Resting the laptop on his knees, he nodded hello at the other gathering staff. The Principal was still absent, obviously busy with a parent or an early student - so much for his plans of having time to talk to him.

  “Weird weather we’re having,” commented Janet Chin, the year five teacher, “Looks like we’re to be another casualty of climate change.”

  Robert grunted a non-committal reply. Unlike most of the other teachers in the school, he was not yet convinced about the whole climate change ideology, but given it was part of the curriculum he had to teach it.

  Finally, the Principal appeared. He was a small compact man who was prematurely balding. He perpetually wore a harried, worried expression on his face, as if the world itself was conspiring to make his life difficult. Robert guessed that the decades of teaching and then being Principal of the School had not helped his stress levels.

  “Good morning, staff,” he said as he waited for everyone to find a seat. “We have twenty-five absentees today, ten up from yesterday.” He handed out copies of a list, Robert perused his copy, three of the students were from his class, including one of the habitual troublemakers.

  The Principal went on, “It seems that the weather has spooked a number of parents, and some families are, in fact, relocating out of the town until the start of next semester. I have also had word from the Department that if conditions here deteriorate any further, then we are to send the children home early. I’ll let you all know at lunchtime whether that will happen today.”

  He cleared his throat, “Keep in mind, the police directives that we have been given in regards to child safety. I have had a phone call from the authorities this morning. It seems there has been another abduction overnight, this time an infant. The child was removed from a cot in the parent’s own bedroom. So we must be extra vigilant with our own pupils.”

  He waited for the ripple of concerned conversation to die down, and then spoke again, “Onto other matters, as you are aware the school term finishes the end of th...” he was interrupted by a sudden crash from a nearby room. Immediately, all the teachers leapt to their feet, Robert with effort lifting himself from his chair.

  The Principal led the other teachers out of the staff room, hurrying along the corridor to the library, which seemed to be the source of the crash. The lights had gone out in the room, but there was enough diffused light from outside to see that three of the big windowpanes had crashed inside, shattering shards of glass everywhere.

  “What the...” the Principal breathed, astounded. “Now, how did that happen?”

  One of the younger male teachers went over to investigate, “I can’t find any rocks or bricks, and it seems that the glass has just given way.”

  Emma Houston, the teacher Librarian gasped, pointing at the windows, “Look at that!”

  Everyone followed the direction of her pointing finger and saw tendrils of watermelon vine cascading over the windowsills and into the room.

  “Since when did we have a vine problem?” demanded the Principal.

  “Since
never,” answered another teacher, “Those vines were only planted at the start of the school year as part of our Permaculture project. There is no way they’d be this high or this lush now. I mean it’s a watermelon vine, and it’s a low growing plant. It shouldn’t be anywhere near the windows, let alone have the weight to smash them in.”

  “Well it’s obviously done so. Come on, we need to clean up the mess before school starts and bar entry into the Library until we can get the windows secured, and the books removed before they are ruined.”

  *

  Carma looked out at the fog-enshrouded street outside her shop and felt a twinge of worry. Since the advent of the fog three days earlier, sales had been down. Tourists, who normally flocked to Emerald Hills were absent from her shop, and even her regulars seemed to be giving her a wide berth. She could not understand why. After that day when the old ladies of the town had bought up all her herbs, she’d scarcely had a customer. She looked down at her balance book. It was not yet a matter for serious concern, but if the fog continued, she might have to consider a new marketing strategy. Walking around the store, she rearranged some of the displays, trying to make the items seem more enticing. Behind her, she heard the chimes jingle as the door opened.

  ‘At last!’ she thought, ‘A customer!’

  Turning hurriedly, she encountered the cool green gaze of Moira, who as usual, did her bizarre float-walk towards her.

  “I see the changes are being made in the town,” Moira said quietly, a small smile upon her lips.

  “Good Morning to you too, Moira,” Carma replied archly.

  “Oh,” Moira was airily dismissive of the greeting. “Good Mor...hmmm.” She stopped and examined a candle, sniffing delicately.”

  “Changes...oh, the power network?” Carma said,” Yes, it is very successful. I’ve heard that half of the town is now connected to the new network. That mixture you asked me to make was quite potent. Those opposed to my action completely rolled over and showed their bellies.”

  Moira only nodded, “My compatriots and I are quite pleased. Do you know when the whole town will be reconnected?”

  Carma nodded, “The council has informed me that the new grid will be in place by mid-to late April.”

  “So soon,” breathed Moira. “You have done well.”

  To her mortification, Carma blushed to the roots of her vividly purple dyed hair.

  Carma glanced outside at the swirling fog, “Moira, the fog seems to have affected my business, is there anything that can be done about it?”

  Moira glanced at her dismissively, waving her fingers and spinning amazing trails of light. Carma sighed and relaxed. The display was so pretty, so wonderful...

  Moira smiled again, her voice low and compelling, “The fog is entirely natural, and don’t fret about customers, they will come. I will ensure that your loyalty is rewarded. However, I no longer need you and I think it’s best that you forget that I ever existed.”

  Carma smiled and she felt an odd dullness envelop her, as if complex thought was now too difficult, too wearying. Part of her brain recognised it and fought against it, but entranced by Moira’s flashing display of light, Carma could only smile blankly and nod.

  Moira walked up to Carma and rested her ruby lips against the other woman’s ear. Softly she whispered, “I was not here, you will forget my name, our meetings and our conversations. You have been a useful tool mortal, however your work for me is done.”

  Carma nodded dully, although inwardly she quailed.

  ‘This was not part of the arrangement,’ she thought with vexing tears starting to spill onto her cheeks. Then the apathy took hold of her again and her chin sunk down onto her ample bosom. She felt too tired even to stand up.

  Carma lifted her head and shook her head in confusion. Just what was she doing sitting on the floor? How long had she been sitting there? Had she fallen asleep? Surely not, she had just been rearranging the merchandise on the shelves. She got to her feet just as the door chimes jangled. She looked around to see a family of five enter, the youngest girl looking around in wonderment at all the colourful candles and other knickknacks set out for sale. Carma smiled blissfully and went back behind her front counter.

  *

  Chapter 16

  It was the fifth day of the mist and Jen was running low on milk and bread. She had not wanted to drive into town whilst the fog persevered, however she could not delay any longer. She needed at least a few basics, her supplies of tinned food were good, but she needed flour, more salt and some meat.

  The last few days at her home had been uneventful. When Jen had discovered some of the strange saplings coming up in her lawn, she had started to panic then remembering what had happened with the bell, she took some salt and sprinkled a little upon each invader. Amazed she watched each infant tree shy away from the substance and then it almost reluctantly retreated into the ground. Each morning after that experiment, she ventured outside with her diminishing bag of salt and sprinkled each new invader. After the second morning, there were no new invasions. Whoever, or whatever clearly understood that she was not to be trifled with and she was left alone.

  Jen walked onto her verandah and closed the door behind her, her car keys in her hand. Her home was her castle, her refuge against whatever was happening beyond her carefully defended domain. Mindful of being neighbourly, she had three days ago rung Brett at his farm to see how his family were faring and got his wife who had been just ready to leave. His wife had introduced herself to Jen as Tracey and had sounded to Jen’s ears a bit stressed and harried. Tracey told Jen that she and Brett had decided to move their young family out of the area until the police caught whoever was responsible for the child abductions. Brett was to remain and mind the farm, whilst she stayed with relatives at Noosaville on the nearby Sunshine Coast.

  Jen stood in an agony of indecision. She knew she had to go to town, yet was reluctant to leave. She felt herself safe here. Looking out across the mist all seemed quiet, too quiet. Yes, it seemed the mist stifled the noise, yet all the natural sounds of the countryside had stopped. Not a single bird called. Even the usually constant background buzz of insects had stilled. Jen wondered how long the silence had been present. Then she heard something through the mist. Vague sounds. Jen strained to hear and was relieved to recognise the distant cawing of crows. Not all wildlife had been silenced; there seemed to be a few still unperturbed by what was happening. Somewhat cheered by the calling of the crows, Jen got in the car and carefully pulled out of her driveway to make the hazardous drive into town.

  At first glance, Emerald Hills seemed normal, except for the all-enveloping mist and the growing saplings. There were a number of people around, mostly visitors, as Jen did not recognise any of the faces. Jen parked her car on the side of the main road and glanced idly at the people walking by. It seemed that the troubles that were plaguing Emerald Hills had brought back the media en masse. Jen counted at least five media teams. Even the national broadcaster had made its way up to the small Hinterlands town. The rest of the visitors seemed the general tourist type, carrying cameras and wearing daypacks. A few individuals gave Jen pause. A couple, dressed in fine clothes sent waves of unease flowing through her and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Jen recognised them as being human, but something about the two strangers set alarm-bells clanging in her mind. They walked past her car, then stopped and looked back; Jen shrank into her seat, busying herself with her purse. After a moment, she dared to look again, and saw that they had walked on, taking the miasma of corruption with them.

  Jen finally summoned the nerve to get out of the car and face the town. Outside, the fog hung heavily about the buildings, and the saplings, now with three or four day’s growth were now knee high. Jen with her Sight could easily avoid them, but others would walk right through them, tripping and stumbling. She watched people looking back or down and then shake their heads in bemusement when nothing could be seen. A group of young university types clustered outside
one shop. They were talking excitedly amongst themselves, whilst wielding sound recording devices and other obscure bits of electronic hardware. As she walked by she overheard one of them exclaim something about raised EMF fields, then she was past them and they too fell out of earshot.

  The news agency was open and crowded with people. Jen bought a copy of both the local newspaper and the big national broadsheet. Stepping outside, she leant against the wall of the newsagent to peruse the front paper stories. Suddenly, she stopped and listened. Jen was certain she had just heard something. She listened, nothing, but then it came again - the sound seemed almost like a deep earthy groan, as if the ground were in pain. There again, a groaning, grinding sound, not human and she would swear, not living either. A minute or two later, she felt a mild tremor through her feet and the building she was leaning against suddenly shuddered. Hastily, she moved away from the wall and as she did so she heard several screams as the ground moved beneath her feet.

  “Earthquake!” someone yelled, and within moments the footpath and road was crowded with people running out of nearby shops and businesses, most looking up into the sky as if a jet had crashed, or if they feared that buildings would topple onto them.