146th of First, 1100 A.W. — Four days now in these caverns. We could have never prepared ourselves for what we would find. There are others here, a whole new people. They look similar to us, but they are smaller, ubiquitously hairless, and have darker skin, like a sappy brown. These people have carved out structures in the caves and the walls of the canyons. While not appearing as sophisticated as us, they still exhibit impressive craftsmanship and metallurgy. If only we spoke the same language, maybe all the bloodshed could have been avoided.
Last night, one of our crew died in his sleep. Fog Eyes believes the cause was a scorpion sting. Leaping Tiger remained vigilant throughout the night and saw Many Eyes for the first time. The sight of it shook his spirit. He saw it crawl over the body of the deceased, showing no interest before retreating back into a tunnel. Immediately after, he awoke the whole camp. He then decided to move our position.
Around midday, deeper into the caves, we came into first contact with these new people. Two women and a man stood before us, barely wearing anything. When one of us tried to approach them, they ran off. More of their men came after, a lot more. These men wore bronze breastplates and lush, feathery helmets with vivid orange felt and decorative ribbons.
At first, they hesitated and looked shocked to see us. They then came at us ferociously with torches and curved bronze blades. Very few of the crew had any weapons. The captain, Leaping Tiger, drew his sword. He was struck down almost instantly. Many others fell in the brief skirmish — maybe over a dozen, with many more injured. We had no choice but to surrender.
They stripped everyone except me of all their belongings, including their clothes. The others became chained and marched away. Those too injured to stand were slaughtered on the spot. The strange men, who initially inspected my scroll cases, escorted me through a different series of tunnels. They’ve placed me in confinement, ironically a lot more comfortable than my previous conditions, either in camp, on the island, or the airsail.
It’s actually quite pleasant. I’m confined to a spacious cavern with most of the basic amenities I’m accustomed to at home in the sanctuary. I have a proper bed, a desk and chair carved out from the rock, a wash basin, and even my own garderobe. There are few bugs inside here, although I do get the occasional spider. A thick metal door locks me inside. My captors have fed me well so far. I’ve had fish, some sort of fruit, and seeds. They’re attentive with water and even have cleaned my quarters for the night. They’ve allowed me to keep all my belongings, including all my scrolls.
I don’t understand why they spared me but not the others. Perhaps they don’t regard scholars as combatants. Then again, Fog Eyes and the cook, Leap Frog, did not fight in the skirmish. A few others also did not participate. Maybe they spared me because they want to learn more about us, regarding me as the most knowledgeable of the crew. That would explain the hospitable treatment. I admit I am terrified of the other possibilities. There is no good in thinking too much of it. I distract myself by documenting all that has happened. Fulfilling my purpose shall keep me sane.