Prompt: The Harp at the Watchtower on Top of the World

Jens considered resting at the spring where he stopped to drink and pour cool water over his head. Three days climbing in the mountains, and no sign of the mysterious music that haunted his village. The passage itself was easy enough. The forests were ancient, with thick crowns to shade the deep leaf litter.

He wondered if there were ever lightning strikes or fires. He had seen no sign, but he would be in big trouble with no breaks to head for shelter if a storm blew into the Karstorn Pass. Clouds tended to bounce back and forth across the mountain ridges for days at a time.

There had been no animals on the ground or in the trees since he started his climb at the base of the Pass. Jens missed the racing foxes and flying squirrels that had kept him company until then. He still kept a wary eye out and swept the ground with his walking stick for hidden vipers. They lazed in the leaves and struck without warning packing a whallop that would kill him within minutes, this far from a healer. He had a few small charms in his pack, but he couldn’t afford any miracles.

Leaving the spring, Jens continued uphill, and within two hours he reached the treeline. As the view opened up around him, he drank in the cool mountain air and the sight of the entire Pass spread out below him. He’d never been so high. He didn’t think anyone had. No one from his village, certainly.

But looking up, he saw that someone had indeed been higher. There was a lone watchtower at the bare peak of the mountain. He thought it would take another hour to reach, but distances were deceiving in the high mountain air. The tower was stone, square, and tall. It had no adornments that he could see. The door must be on the far side, because there were only small windows staggered up the two walls in his view. If the pattern was true to the paintings he’d seen of the ancient Karstorn Keep, then there were four sets of windows per floor around the tower. He could see six, no, eight pairs on this side. Eight stories tall. Why would such a tall tower be needed way up here?

Jens shielded his eyes and looked across the Pass to the other peaks, searching for another tower. He couldn’t see any. Perhaps he would see watch flames at night. He shook his head at the mystery and started up the mountain meadow to the tower.

An hour later, he found he had still farther to go. He sat on the open ground and drank some of the cold spring water and ate a little jerky he had left from the last inn. While he rested, the first notes sounded from the tower above. Jens jumped to his feet, spilling the water from his dromedan. He began to run toward the tower.

The music continued. Hard notes, slow, one by one at first, then running faster together as in a dance. Jens found himself breathing in time to the music even as he pelted across the meadow. Reaching the tower at last, curiosity warred with caution, and he slowed to turn the corner. Leaning against the wall overlooking the open Pass was an enormous harp, intricately carved in gleaming blond wood and standing taller than Jens’ head. As he stared, he saw there was a balcony of sorts across the tower, the height of the harp’s broadest reach. Behind the strings of the harp, a small, wizened man ran back and forth. His long white hair and beard framed his face in a wild halo, as unkempt as his threadbare tunic and pants. Completely focused on his task, he played the harp with astonishing skill.

He saw Jens and stopped with a loud twang on one string. They stared at one another without speaking for a long moment, then he clapped his hands and jumped down from the balcony to the ground in one graceful leap. “Well, that’s that, then. I’m off. Stick to the main schedule and watch for any signs of trouble. Good luck!”

Before Jens could overcome his surprise to say the first word, the small man had moved with startling speed to cross the meadow. By the time Jens managed to call after him, he waved a hand without looking back and disappeared into the trees. Jens stared after him, then up to the harp, in disbelief.

Now what?

Dogs in house:	Houdini, Brindle
Time writing:	40 minutes
May word count:	18,802