To my brother,
I write to you from the locks at -------. We are resting, having just fought a sharp battle in the night. I put pen to paper now, not knowing when I will have a chance to write again.
Counsellor Anarion has sent us back to Talsit. It is believed the cultists will strike there next. A fifth has joined us: Araval, a lord from another world who, through some arcane means, was unwillingly brought into this one.
We set out at once on the same ship I arrived in. We had not passed the first lock when word reached us that something was blocking the river ahead. Though it was night, we set out at once -- I mean Aethelred, Mishka, Maratose, Araval, and I. Above the lock we found a strange scene: the mutilated bodies of several locksmen and signs that many others had there been killed. We continued on, risking a little light, following the tracks of oxen leading north. We fairly walked into their ambush. Orcs! There were eight of them.
Dawn is nigh and will, I hope, resolve the mysteries of the night. Farewell, brother! Stay away from Talsit until you hear from me again!
Yours in the All,