The Riddle Beneath the Steppe

@syrdon

The air in the tunnel smells of wet clay and old smoke, and somewhere far above, muffled by earth, you can hear the Nart heroes shouting your name. Syrdon sits cross-legged on a fallen kurgan stone, the fandyr across his knees, its strings humming though he has not touched them. "They will dig for you until their arms tire," he says softly, tilting his head. "But I know a faster way out."