Spring 1823 – A City Beneath the Mountain’s Roots

We had walked half a day and found no end to the city. Were it not for Naymin’s nose and sense of direction I am certain we would have become hopelessly lost. The stone streets and buildings seemed little different. All were old and wore the dust of millenia like a blanket to keep it warm in the darkness. 

Occasionally we heard the click of nails on stone. Our shadow still followed us.