The cold stone floor of the prison cell was damp and the air stale. Pain was thudding against Corbin’s left eye. Looking down, he saw he no longer wore his own clothes, but just a single itchy rag. The cell was large, but he was not the only occupant. In the other corner four more people were lounging on a bench. They were staring with intense scowls at Corbin. The dirt on them seemed to tell that they had been in the cell for a fair bit longer than him. A sinking feeling arose within him. Will I also remain here? He tried putting aside his fear and the discomfort that the other inmates brought him and cleared his throat.
“Hey. I’m sorry, but where are we? I shouldn’t really be here.”
“Zer eseen zunia?” One of the women asked, but she wasn’t looking at him. The question was meant for her companions. One of the others simply shrugged and the others didn’t even seem to acknowledge her question at all. She glared at them for a short moment, then turned towards Corbin. Her dirty face made it hard to tell what she really looked like and it was possible her tangled black hair would be a different colour if washed, but her piercing blue-grey eyes were unmistakable. They were intense enough for Corbin’s breath to catch for a moment. “Zen de zaure inesa?”
That question was meant for Corbin, but he didn’t understand a single word. “I don’t understand,” he said with a sigh. It was obvious that it was useless to even say that since the others wouldn’t understand him either. They made a couple more attempts, but the result was the same. Finally, the woman let out a frustrated groan and left him alone once more, returning to her companions.
Corbin felt despair crawling up his skin like a colony of ants. He sank down to the floor, leaning on the wall and rested his head in his hands. I’m alone. Between the pain and the feeling of dread at the situation, it was all he could do to hold back tears. What brought him over the edge was the memory of the old men on the floor of the shop. Bile rose inside him and convulsions shook his body. I did nothing. The logical part of his mind told him that there was nothing he could have done, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the difficult emotions. I always wanted to be heroic, but when it came to it, I just froze.
As he lifted his head, he saw the group were still watching him. Some with concern, others with contempt. One of the men went to another corner of the cell, undid his pants and relieved himself. No way, just in the corner of the cell. It shouldn’t feel like a big deal, but even this felt as if dignity was scrubbed from Corbin like old dead skin. After the man returned, some of the distress was dulled, though not by much. There was a hole in the ground there.
A door opened somewhere with a clang and a guard walked along the hall towards their cell, carrying a large tray. He looked at the prisoners with a look of disgust and slid the tray into the cell, but not before spitting on it. He then took a clean tray with cups, that had been left on the ground. All prisoners remained completely still and silent until the moment the clang announced the departure of the guard. Corbin wanted to call to the man and make a plea, but decided against after seeing how the others acted. He probably wouldn’t understand me anyway. Then one of the group went to pick it up and they began dividing the food into equal shares among themselves. Before they were finished, they started murmuring, as if trying to decide something. A look of dissatisfaction was apparent on two of them. The same woman, that spoke to Corbin before took a portion of the food and set it down next to Corbin.
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“Janri,” she said and returned.
“Thank you,” Corbin replied. Even if neither one understood the words, the meaning was easy enough to unravel the meaning. The bread was hard and stale, the piece of turnip on the other hand was pungent and going soft. Nevertheless, Corbin ate the food greedily. He didn’t even know how long it had been since the whole incident took place, but the first taste made his stomach grumble.
There was some straw on the ground and Corbin arranged some of it for sleeping, after seeing the others make preparations for sleep. It had a rotten smell and wasn’t especially comfortable. He didn’t sleep a wink. He was rolling around the straw. He itched and it was too hot. The extra time alone, or as close to being alone as was possible in the situation, gave him an opportunity to consider his predicament and put his thoughts in order. In the store. Those men came from the portal. But where are they from? They had swords and magic as well I suppose, so it isn’t the past time of my world. The portal took me to a different world.
It felt, as if he was woken up right as he had finally fallen asleep. The last image he saw in the brief dream was an angry green face. Some weird creature, like a goblin. He was dizzy, while he sat himself on the straw and was sure he would faint, if he attempted to stand up right away. Much like the previous day, he spent his day alone in his corner, while the others stuck together, but never spoke in more than short whispers. I haven’t even considered this, but these people could be actual dangerous criminals. Then again, not much use mulling over it. They had ample opportunities to attack me, but they fed me instead.
The loud clang announced the return of the guard. Or perhaps an arrival of the new one. As strange as was, Corbin was almost looking forward to the prospect of seeing his warden. Despite all the anxiety brought by being attacked and then falsely imprisoned, the life of an inmate was already beginning to appear quite dull. Not to mention the fact that food would be arriving soon. He looked towards the hallway, but didn’t move. It’s probably for the best to leave the others to do things their way. He stole a glance at the inmates. To his surprise, the look of gloom on their faces was even more intense than normal. The excitement drained from him in an instant.
At that moment not one, but three guards showed up. They stopped near the gate of the prison cell.
“Fermin,” the leader said in a strong voice. One of the men stood up and walked to the gate, holding his hands on his head. Even through the grime on his face it seemed as if he was going pale. At the gate he faced away from the guards and waited. The rest of his companions made no sound and no movement. I guess they’ve really been here for quite a while. Everything is routine. I don’t even know if Fermin is his name or just means “you there”. The gates opened and the man was put into heavy looking metal and wooden shackles that one of the guards was carrying. The others both had their swords drawn. His hands were shackled behind his head and his legs were connected by a chain. He was escorted back outside. It felt as if nobody even took a breath until the clang.
“Madarigetu!” The black-haired woman exclaimed and hit the bench. The other woman whispered to her for the first time since Corbin came. She seemed somewhat older, though still fairly young, with light brown hair. She put her arm on the younger woman and managed to calm her down. If they are so careful about even making a little noise, I can’t even imagine what horrible things they did to them so far.
Hours passed and another guard came. Everyone looked hopefully, but this time a guard was carrying the food. The disappointment was palpable. This time they left the tray untouched after taking it in the cell. Corbin was hungry, but understood their feeling of dedication. It was more hours before the man was returned to the cell. He immediately collapsed to the ground. This time the others didn’t wait for the clang. As soon as the guard was a couple of steps away from the cell, they rushed to his side. The young woman hugged him, and he grunted in pain. Corbin took a better look at him. Every part of him that wasn’t covered in clothing was bruised or bloody. The rest of him was most likely the same if not worse. After the man was once more steady on his feet, they finally distributed the food. To Corbin’s relief, he was not forgotten.
The days that followed were much the same. Excruciating boredom, inadequate food and every so often one of the inmates was chosen for a beating. Are they being questioned or is it simply meaningless? Corbin was grabbed by terror every time, but was never chosen. Is it just not my turn yet or do they have something different in mind for me? How long will this take?