I miss you constantly in this strange desert, and can find no solace but in the memory of your beauty and wit, and no anticipation greater than that for the day that I return to you with a measure of the riches of the East large enough to begin to make me worthy of you. I could continue forever in this vein, but I must be brief. The ancient artifact that will send this letter to a place where it can be transcribed and relayed to you is expensive to use and must be shared by the entire caravan. And I wish to leave space to tell you of my life here since my previous letter from the desert's edge, which I pray that you have received.
Each day we prepare, very early, for the day's travel. When dawn arrives our path is marked in shadow. We are already mounted on our camels, and we follow the dark sandy road to the next column, as the sun sweeps its shadow along the ground. For an hour, the scorching sun compromises with the cool morning air to make the ride almost comfortable. But slowly, slowly it becomes hotter, and I think of the intense heat outside of the shadow. If the ancients had not built the pillars, this journey wou ld be impossible; the currents and winds that will allow my return by sea make Eastward travel by that method impracticable. But they did, for reasons that are even now not entirely fathomable to me. It is known that they did not need to use this path, for they had giant birds and would ride in their stomachs, and when they arrived the birds would expel their passengers by vomiting. I imagine that their travels were faster than mine, but at least I am not covered with stomach slime, no?
However, I have not been able to bathe on this journey. There is no water but that which we are bringing ourselves, at least until the forty-third pillar, where Enriq, (whom I mentioned in my last letter,) says there is an oasis and a town. This will be most welcome.
The pillars are truly wondrous, many times larger than the ruins of the ancients in the cities. Our path does not usually come close enough to inspect them, and the constant monitoring that I must make for signs of exhaustion in our beasts would normally prevent it. However, ten days past the pillars were relatively short and closely spaced and their shadows forced us to stay closer to them. Our slower progress gave me a chance to see and feel the intricate carvings covering the obsidian-like surface of one. I pointed out an inscription in the ancients' language to Enriq; it was set apart, in a flat backround devoid of the spheres, spiral ladders and human likenesses among much smaller text that covered the rest. Enriq, who is very wise in such matters, translated:
"In the hope that generations to come will not repeat our folly, the eleventh of 88 nanotech seeds was planted at this spot, to provide a link in a chain to connect the lands separated by this desert of our creation, and knowledge that may help stop the suffering of those to come after our fall was inscribed upon the tree that grew from it."
I asked him what it meant by "nanotech", and he explained that it was a type of magic of the ancients, and that its misuse was responsible for the fall of their civilization. He assured me that the column, though formed by this magic, was nonetheless benign. I did not bother him after that, for he was intent upon reading the smaller engravings, and when the time came we returned to the caravan.
There is much about this world that I do not know, and I fear that it may change me greatly before I return. I see that the inscription was a letter much like the one I write now, to bridge a gap between their time and ours as physically impenetrable as the one that separates us. And as they wished to inspire hope in the people of our day, despite their mistakes, so I would like to do the same for you, despite my taking this journey and leaving you, which may be my greatest mistake. I remain,
Faithfully yours, always, Jore Dossantos.