My Dear,

I write to you with grave, grave news. I was not given the gift of diplomacy that you possess, nor the wiles to shield you from the truth, nor yet the wisdom to see in this calamity the traces of a later triumph for us. And so I will tell you plain, for I know no other way.

The Senan was taken as a prize, and our sacred cargo is no longer in the possession of our kin.

Not two days after I left you, our vessel was intercepted by a craft belonging to the Temar company. We led them on for the best part of a day, nearly evading them in the dawn, but at last we were forced to strike. A complement of those mercenary scum came aboard our vessel. Disdaining what they found, a mere child was left in command of the craft and of our lives. We were abandoned upon an outcropping as the child set off to return with the vessel across the Belt. What they did not know is we dumped most of our good cargo in the night, along with our charts and navigational tools. I doubt the child made his journey easily.

The relic, of course, was hidden deep in the fabric of the Senan, and even had we been able to cast it overboard, I doubt we should have done so for fear of its permanent loss or destruction. And now the treasure of our people is in the hands of those Spires scum, and I fear what may befall it.

Should the privateers of the Companies discover it, they are as like to destroy it as sell it for display in one of their cities. Should they break apart the craft or if that craft should be used in battle, it will likely be destroyed without them ever knowing it was there. Our greatest hope is that the Senan enters service under the Temar flag, and we shall be able to reclaim the vessel and with it the treasure we have all worked so hard to protect.

We spent one night upon that rock, not ranging far for fear of the local creatures. Afje and Ralen quarreled terribly in the morning, greatly depressing our morale. Knowing that we were not likely to see any friendly vessels in such deep country, and not daring to light a signal in the night, we resolved to march east, despite the risks, to reach the Abga, which we reckoned was two day’s travel.

The march was difficult, both on our souls and our bodies. Ralen kept a poor pace, and slowed the entire crew; the land was thick and difficult to navigate; though we were fortunate to not encounter any hostile beasts, armed as we were with nothing more than sticks and our ship-knives. Our first day we made poor distance, and and by the third morning, the meagre rations left to us by the cursed child who had carried off our Senan had run out, as the cruel fiend surely intended. That night we spent shivering and hungering beneath a thorny bush; I didn’t sleep a moment, such was the fear of discovery by a bear or a tribe of apes, and concern we would not reach the river.

The following day we made poorer pace still, but in the early afternoon found a grove of fruit trees – not yet fully ripe but certainly edible for our poor guts. Fenya stunned a small creature that entered the grove with a well thrown rock, a most impressive throw, and stirring to our hopes. That night we risked a small firepit, and cooked the animal and even the tiny morsel of meat we each received restored much vigour to our muscles and our hearts.

And a good omen it proved to be. Scaling a tree late the next morning, Ralen was sure he could see the course of the great river ahead of us. Buoyed by this discovery, we made great pace for the remainder of the day, and camped late that night atop a hill overlooking the banks of the great Abga, hungry once more but with the hope of salvation at last.

I fished for our breakfast, and was returning with my catch when I heard a commotion downriver; Afje and Fenya shouting in great excitement. I hurried to them at once, to see what they had discovered – it was a cargo box, none other than one from our own vessel, that had been cast overboard! It must have landed in the Abga when we ejected in our chase, and been carried along before getting caught in a tangle of trees at the river’s shore.

We set to work immediately – dismantling the container and constructing from it a raft to take us down river. The panels of the box, lashed to wood we cut down from the surrounding trees, floated most stably upon the languid waters and provided enough space for us four to travel. In this way, we made our progress downriver, knowing we would eventually come upon a friendly settlement, or perhaps follow the river’s course to Atyen.

Well, we were wrong for a few day’s travel downriver – forgive me, I had begun to lose track of the days after so many days of hardship – we were picked up by an Erthan river vessel. A most curious sight, but the captain took us aboard, and despite eyeing us with great suspicion, he allowed us to be fed and granted us the use of his guest cabin. It is here that I write this letter from now.

And now my dear, I must finish with yet more grave news. I won’t be returning as soon as I had hoped. Promises are sacred to me as you know, and it pains me terribly to fail you in this time. But the greater pain is to know our sacred treasure is in the possession of those Spire mercenaries, and to know the failure of my duty – a failure shared yes, but not diminshed by that sharing. In Atyen, I will find our people there, and thence travel to Mirsvr, to Lansk, to Otvev, to wherever the Senan has been, until I can recover the relic.

Have faith my dear, for now our faith and our will may be all that remains to us.

Vistan