Saucers
In the land of Ozric, there rested a valley. This valley was nestled deep in the midst of a thousand miles of treacherous rocks and deserts and forests. In this plush and fertile valley the people raised crops into waving fields of gold and green, and farmed many animals with ease. The children played without a care in the world, safe from harm and alone in their small village.
Many children played in the woodland, which was surrounded on all sides by the farms. The “woods” was a sacred place, with its winding dirt floor paths, broken stick beds, and enormous trees. These were vibrant green trees unlike any in the surrounding forests, above the valley. One could not see the tops of some.
One in particular was a mile high. Its peak obscured by clouds, and hundreds of years of legends. It had been told for generations that the top of the tree grew fruits of unimaginable taste. The breadth of the trunk was so large, and the bark so hard and smooth that it could not be climbed, and therefore this story remained a legend. Another story told by the elders of the village was of the Golden Gate. This was a bridge from one treetop to another, and finally ending at this most special of trees, with the delicious fruit.
Most of the village’s people didn’t believe in the fruit, or the Golden Gate. These were tales handed down for the entertainment of children. As such, most of the children did believe these stories, and tried to climb the trees in the sacred forest to find the Golden Gate to the delicious fruit. Two boys, brothers, walked side-by-side one morning along one of the dirt floor paths through the woods. They were given the task of finding some nuts when a strange sound echoed through the air, down from the mountains above. It sounded like music, like the guitars that the old people play around the bonfires. “Hear that Samson?” “Yes David.” “What is it?” “I don’t know,” Samson said, “but I really feel like I should be up in that tree right now.” The boys had a terrible feeling of danger from the scary music, like there was a mighty flood descending down from the mountains to destroy the valley. They quickly hustled up the nearest tree. This was a tree that for most of the children was very hard to climb. Samson and David were two of the best tree climbers in the village, and managed it easily. The tree was very wide, but had coarse bark that would allow one’s fingers to grad hold enough to let one reach the first branch. A good tree climber only needs to reach the first branch.
From the first branch they sat, listening better still to that strange music descending from the surrounding hills. It had quick, haunting plucks that sounded like an impending doom, or a rise to attack. These boys did not know what an attack was, being safely harbored in their village for life. The wise man however did.
“Why are you boys in that tree?” The wise man asked them. “We don’t know,” Samson responded politely. “We just needed to be up here,” David added. “Why don’t you come down now?” The wise man asked. “We can’t,” Samson said.
Now, to deny the wise man was a grave sin in the valley. Most of the parents in the village taught their children to respect the wise man, out of custom. They would be in big trouble when they got home, but still they could not leave the tree.
“Why won’t you come down?” The wise man softly asked them. “We’re scared,” Samson said. “Don’t be scared,” the wise man said, “I’ll catch you.” “We’re not afraid of climbing down,” David said, “We’re afraid
of being down.” “Afraid of being down?” “Yes,” Samson said, “That horrible noise, something is coming.”
The wise man looked terrified for a split second, then hastened back to the village. He knew this day would come, but was hoping it would not be this soon. “They are returning!” He shouted through the windows of the small shops. “They are returning to claim their own!”
Many of the people took the wise man for a phony. He was someone to be placated, but not taken seriously. These people had settled in nicely to their convenient way of life. Now that the cobbler had his trade, and the smiths had theirs, and the farms produced plenty of food, there were few lessons to learn anymore from an old man. He was responsible for the outrageous stories about delicious fruits, and Golden Gates. So when he decided to run through the village shouting threats, only a few came out to see what he had to say.
“The village is in danger, the farms are in danger. They are returning to claim their own!”
They, everyone knew from the stories, were the Mountain Men. Not really men at all, they had been told, but some sort of boar-beast that walked on their hind legs as a man did. No one had ever seen one, and this was merely another legend in the eyes of most. It was said that when the Mountain Men, or Ozrics left
hundreds of years ago, they left behind the smallest and weakest of their kind. These weak ones had been farmed ever since the ancient villagers came down from the trees. These abandoned animals were the forefathers of the pigs they now prospered from.
“That’s crazy,” one of the men said. “You’re an old fool.” “Don’t you hear it? Didn’t you hear the sound?” “What sound?” Another of the villagers asked. “The song of the Ozrics. I thought I was the only one to hear it, but two of our children heard it too, and will not come down from a tree.” “They are but insubordinate boys, get them down and spank them!”
Hearing this, the villagers laughed. The wise man could not but leave the disgrace of the village, and return to the boys in the forest. His destiny was to warn his people. This was his reason for living, and they ignored him.
“Wise man,” came a shout from behind. “Yes.”
Two young men walked behind him, closing in as they came toward the forest. It was Angus and James. They were known in
the village as the best tree climbers since they were very small. “Take us to these boys,” Angus said. “They are straight ahead,” the wise man said.
Coming into the woods, the music started again. The three men looked at one another. “Don’t you hear it?” The wise man asked them. “Of course we do,” James responded. “We heard it an hour ago, like you.”
As they came up to the tree where the boys were, there was no sign of them. “Boys!” The wise man shouted. “Boys!”
Angus and James waited for a moment patiently, then nodded to one another, and began to climb the tree. “Wait here wise man,” Angus demanded, “We’ll find them.”
The two men climbed several yards up the tree to find the boys sitting in a crotch, awaiting their punishment.
“What are you two doing up here?” James asked. “Something is coming!” They shouted in fear and frustration.
James and Angus were among the few villagers that listened
to the wise man, and believed the legends. They had spent most of their childhoods in the trees, dreaming about this day, when They would return.
The legend said that two children would know which tree held the ladder to the Golden Gate. Therefore Angus and James began climbing higher, into the leaves, high above the ground.
“There isn’t much time now!” The wise man saw them, and screamed in fear. “Go warn the people,” James yelled down. “Tell them to come quick.” “You must find the key!” The wise man shouted, “You will know when you see it!”
They heard the music again, clearer now that they were high up in the tree. Looking down many yards, the boys huddled on their branch, trembling from the sound that echoed down from the mountains. As they looked upon their climb, an end could not be seen through the leaves and branches that seemed to go on for miles. Around them on all sides was a maze of winding branches, so thick that a person could walk across them if they were very careful. There were also many smaller branches that seemed perfect for sitting, when they needed a break. But there was not time for this.
Down in the woods below, people started to gather. Some of them even began to climb into the tree to see what was happening. The rest of the villagers stayed at work in their shops, without a second thought. In both places, people could hear the repetitious plucking of strings, coming down from the mountains as it grew louder every hour. Those that made it into the tree could hear it very clearly as they spread out along the branches to listen. Those above beckoned to them still on the forest floor to partake in the stunning exploration of sounds up high, and in the clear wind between the tree branches.
“Angus!” James shouted down, high above the forest floor. “Do you have a clearing?” “No James.” “Hurry up,” he said, “you must see this!”
James hurried up the tree several yards to the clearing of leaves and branches to witness the most horrible sight he’d ever seen. Thousands of creatures moved like a black fog across the prairies and into the village’s farms. From so high in the air, the nature of this mob could not be made quite clear. The two men knew, helpless and high up, that whoever was on the ground was doomed.
They on the ground could not have known what hit them as the strange music fell upon them in an instant, and the Ozrics pillaged their shops and houses. They tore apart everything that stood in the way, people and things alike, on their way to the sacred woods. The other villagers, and all of the curious children by now were up in the tree, moving higher to hear the strange song better. It was certain that it was a deliberate song, played by a musician, but of what nature they had never heard.
The song was now even heard by those villagers that decided to remain on the ground as it bounced violently off the tree trunks around them. However, it was now too late for them. Their last thoughts were of regret for not joining those brave, trusting souls in the trees as the mob stomped them to dust, and gorged them against the trunks of the sacred trees.
Those that made it into the tree, and the conjoined branches of surrounding trees, now had a close up view of these savage predators. They wore hairy leather, metal, and chains over their muscular gray bodies. Their faces were like those of boars, some with tusks above their snarling jowls. The beasts grunted as they clawed with hooves at the trunk of the tree in which most of the villagers perched.
The men and women of the village were terrified at seeing what Ozrics had done to their friends, and what they were doing to their bodies for food. Most of them could not look down at the disgusting sight. The horror was too much for these decent pig farmers. They cried, but were glad at the same time for making the decision to ascend. One could hear them sob.
“Oh cousin…” “Oh son….” “Oh father….” “Why didn’t you come up into the tree?”
Some of them still recognized the fact that they were not safe. Even though the beasts’ hooves prevented them from climbing, all of the village’s food was being destroyed, and there was no water in the tree. How would they live another two days? James and Angus kept climbing. They had been very high into the treetops before, and they were not scared, but it was a slow journey. The air was getting thin, and they knew this was as high as they’d ever been. The foliage was still very thick, and tangled in such a way that it was impossible to see, and hard to climb. Only the best climbers could perform this difficult task. They could no longer hear the strange music, and looking down when they could upon the farms, could see no mob except to resemble a swirling liquid.
Soon, the branches then were getting thinner as the leaves got thicker, and there was only enough strength in them for one climber’s weight. Their arms were scratched through to blood from the branches and twigs that had passed them by. Angus continued alone for several difficult yards up the tree as the sun set. They climbed right through the day.
Darkness slowly cooled the hostages sitting on the tree branches near the forest floor. Those who could, moved up as far as they were able, to allow others to gain distance from the hideous beasts still growling below. Hopefully, there was not to be any falling from the branch during sleep, to be devoured by the boar-men.
“You watch me as I sleep, and then I’ll watch you.”
The next morning came without the loss of another villager, but they were now hungry, cold, and sore. The growling, and hideous laughs throughout the night did not cease, and as the dawn had risen a new clamoring sound emerged. It seemed that the creatures had devised a plan to scale the trees. They began to pound metal stakes from their coverings through wooden planks from the villager’s houses, and into the tree trunks. They were building a ladder!
Panic swept through the branches as the older of the group tried to create a plan of action. The two children now had dozens of others near them on other branches as they huddled together for warmth, and trembled at the sight of the slobbering beasts beginning to climb the tree. There was no place to hide.
Angus was nearing about thirty yards from the peak of the tree when he discovered a large wooden box nailed to the small trunk. It also appeared to be attached to a network of vines that ran across to another trunk somewhere through the dense branches and leaves. He knew this must be the key to the Golden Gate that the wise man spoke of.
“I think I’ve found it,” Angus yelled down to James below. “Open it!”
Angus searched the box for some kind of opening. On the reverse side, a small hole led way to a trigger inside the box. Angus held his breath, stuck his finger in and squeezed the trigger. The box broke apart, splintering the bottom and sides from within. A heavy weight instantly dropped straight down to the ground, pulling with it a network of vines that sent Angus spinning off his branch. He grabbed another on his descent, and dangling a mile high, he hung on with all of his will. As he pulled
himself into a safe position, he realized the network of vines actually became the side rails and rungs of a ladder that now hung for at least as far as he could see down into the green haze below.
“Angus!” James shouted. “Are you OK?” “Yes! You?” “You almost knocked me down!” “Sorry,” Angus started to say, “I had no idea—“ “I think you did it! It’s a ladder for the rest!”
And it was. The weight yanked enough of the vines and branches down from the treetops to reveal a Golden Gate that crossed over to the trunk of the mile high tree, the one with the delicious fruit.
Below, the ladder couldn’t have dropped a second later. As it crashed down near the first branch, the beasts had almost made their way up to the same spot with their planks, and were snarling and squealing for fresh children. The people quickly hurried up the ladder. As the last of the villagers followed the ladder up, the beasts closed in quickly behind.
With their hooves, they twisted the vines into loops to help them rise up the rungs of the ladder. The strength that these
beasts possessed made up for the fact that they had no fingers or hands with which to grip. They kept up with the fleeing villagers as they rose up high into the swaying treetops. The awful screeching of birds followed the unusual caravan during its ascent.
Angus and James explored along the Golden Gate and discovered that the ropes that made up the expansion bridge were coated with a golden twine, to prevent deterioration. The two young men ran across the bridge to find several types of nuts and fruits that had somehow grown out of the trunk of the mile high tree. The tree’s bark was as smooth and impenetrable as the base at ground level, but somehow these different varieties had managed to emerge from the glossy trunk. They ate, and became full on delicious food having no way of knowing the extent of the danger their fellows were in.
After several more hours, villagers who came popping up from the ladder’s top rung recounted horrible tales from their experience at the ground level. Angus and James were frightened, but knew what had to be done.
“The beasts are upon us!” The wise man shouted from the top rung of the ladder. He was close behind the last of the children, and they all made it safely to the top.
As more and more of the villagers ran across the bridge toward the safety and food, the two young men ran in the opposite direction toward the ladder. Just below they could see the last of their friends barely out of the reach of the beasts, ascending quickly, and in a panic.
From the top, sitting on the Golden Bridge the two young men kicked at the box that once held the weight that began the ladder. There was only one man left to climb the final rung. He had fallen a bit behind the others in his attempt to stall the beasts by occasionally kicking at their hooves. He saw Angus and James trying to remove the ladder and hastened to the top. The man’s power was just what the other two needed.
“Kick it! Kick it harder!”
Just one more great big kick and the box was sent to the floor of the forest, hitting every other branch, and taking the ladder and the legion of beasts along with it. Several of the beasts managed to cling to branches, but only for a moment as their hooves could not grip. They soon followed the others, falling helplessly to the bottom into a pile of leather and steel.
The villagers spent the night rejoicing with full stomachs, but mourning the loss of their fellows. It was obvious to the wise man that the people that made it were the faithful. He had warned, and they had listened, but it still made him sick with sadness that the others had not. This was his destiny.
The next morning, Samson and David came running over to the wise man screaming, “The tree is stairs!” “What?” The Wise man wondered out loud. He followed the boys toward the food tree, where a group of the villagers were standing. There was a small hole on the far side of the trunk that led to a passageway through to the center of the tree. Inside the trunk there was a staircase that ran down the shaft as far as the eye could see. The whole way was lit by tiny pin-sized holes that allowed just enough sunlight through to see the steps. Angus and James explored the path that ended at the forest floor on the opposite side of the woods. The wise man decided that it would be best to wait a little while before going back to the village. In the meantime they could enjoy the most delicious food of all, above the clouds. “Once a month we’ll send someone down to the floor,” he said, “and let him check for the sound of the Mountain Men, and the playing of the Saucers.”
All the people listened.
Only it did not take very long to return home. A storm came to the mountains with terrible rains. The valley was flooded and the remaining Ozrics were driven back to the mountains. Before the villagers left however, the wise man put the people to the task of building a new ladder out of the vines, and with it covering the bridge that had saved their lives. Nobody minded, and the fruit was delicious.
THE END