Prisoner

Cornell was on the edge of consciousnesses wondering why he was so cold when he heard two voices just on the edge of hearing.
“So this is one of the few who survive the gassing” said a voice over the background of their footsteps.
“yes sir, him and two others” another voice replied, his echo ringing eerily down the corridor.
“Do you know who any of them are? Or more importantly who their leader is” asked the first voice.
“From dress alone we think this one to be a leader of sorts, and all three of them have the similar blood red tattoos on their left forearm answered the second voice.
The footsteps stopped, “And his swords seem to be stuck in their scabbard, the Magus said it’s some kind of magic.” Why do they have my blade? He thought, alarmed. Then he remembered the alarm sounding, the short lived fight and then the smoke, that noxious smoke, clogging his throat burning his lungs, panic everywhere, then nothing. He felt tears of frustration, rage, and sorrow slowly trek their way down his sun worn face to. He wanted to yell but couldn’t find the breath. What was that smoke he thought alarmed as he drifted back into troubled unconsciousness.

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The soft patter of calf skin boots surrounded by the heavier clinking of harder heels echoed through the cell lined walls was enough to partly rouse Cornell from his troubled sleep.“You said you had information on the few surviving nomads, Kortan.” Altan said arrogantly.
“Indeed I do Highness, the magus has confirmed that it is magic that keeps his sword in place, but it’s like no magic he’s encountered.” Kortan said.
“What of the tattoos?” Altan asked.
“We think them to be a mark of a bond of sorts, each one seems to complete each other, and the magus found traces of magic on them and this one has another one on his right palm” The inquisitor said.
“It seems the magus has been far more productive Kortan” Altan said his voice thick with displeasure at knowing so little. I may have been able to find out more if the magus’s smoke hadn’t killed so many of them Kortan thought venomously.
“He’s in here highness” Kortan his steps ceasing as the faint metal click of the lock opening could be heard. Cornell was sitting semi-conscious, chained to the black wall, his odd attire a splash of color in the stark cell. “Well he’s certainly dressed differently” Altan said, after studying Cornell’s still form.
“He was also the one who bore the magically sheathed sword.” The second voice said. My blade! Cornell thought fiercely coming closer to full consciousness.
“So, he’s their leader, he looks so young, no more then twenty” Altan said musing. I’m nearly forty you idiot Cornell thought oddly detached yet venomous. “Wake him up” Altan said he so enjoyed ordering underlings about.
“No need. I’m awake.” Cornell said, his voice was harsh, and strangely accented.
“I want you to tell me somethings.” Alten said, as if this simple demand would somehow make Cornell spill all his secrets.
“Really, and why would I tell you anything you arrogant ishtaka.” Cornell said finally looking up, his eyes alight with hate. Kortan stifled a laugh in the background.
“Oh I’ll find ways you pathetic barbarian” Altan said, so close Cornell feel his warm breath “you’ll find your mind isn’t quite as solitary as you think.” Cornell replied with a bitter laugh which morphed into a sickly hack causing Altan to step back quickly.
“You call me a barbarian, yet your so willing to kill and worse.” he said harshly after he had recovered from his cough.
“Kortan” Altan said, his tone demanding attention.
“Yes, highness?” the inquisitor said in a questioning response .
“Inform me about these tattoos.” Altan said, suddenly grabbing Cornell’s left forearm painfully exposing the three blood red tattoos.
“The other two that we captured each have a tattoo which match his, however they each only have one and he has three.” Kortan told him “ I think they are part of some type of magic bonding, from what has been discovered about these people they are of both human and elven descent so it’s probably a mixture of barbaric rituals and complex elven magic.”
“What do the magi say about it?” Altan asked
“Not much they seem to be mesmerized by those swords.” Kortan said
“You’ll never get them out, Ishtaka, they are spirit blades.” Cornell said serenely “You’ve neither the mark nor the blood”
“What are you babbling?” Altan asked the force of his demand clarified by straining Cornell’s elbow painfully. “Explain yourself”. Without a grimace and within a blink of an eye, Altan was sent sprawling into his body guards, landing with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. Cornell laughed, it was a mocking bitter sound, like .
Altan untangled himself, “You’ll pay for that little trick” Altan said, his voice terse with injured pride “Kortan, get the magus.” Altan said his voice harsh with anger.
“Certainly sire, do you want me to arrange… transportation, the magus is rather particular about where he does his magic. And Kisen will advise against it” Kortan said. “Yes of course, just tell him I want it to work, I want answers, I don't care what the doctor says, just get it set up” Altan told him, his hands gesturing emphatically.
“Of course” Kortan said, his bulky feet shuffling as he bowed and left.

“Lucky me I have visitor's again.” Cornell said sarcastically, as he heard the four guards and the doctor Kisen approach not long after.
“Get him to drink this” Kisen said handing the vial of foul smelling liquid to one of the guards.
“Anther one of you remedies doctor?” Cornell asked, mockingly. “I guess not, you usually say something if it is?” Cornell said after a moment, sounding a little concerned, his bravado fading as he began coughing again.
“Just get him to drink it.” Kisen said, sighing heavily, as he watched the guards approach, two approaching either side, ready to restrain his arms, “And try not to be to brutal, he's still in a fragile state.” One guard laughs darkly in response, as he brutally smashes Cornell into the wall. Leaving him stunned, and triggering another coughing fit. “Pathetic” the fourth guard said, his voice think with contempt, as he covered his nose forcing his mouth open. He shoved the metal top of the vial into his mouth, emptying the contents causing him to gag.
“Don't let him spit it out” The doctor said, he had tried to do so many times before. The first guard savagely forced his head back forcing him to swallow. The two guards were soon supporting him as he tried to regain his drug stolen equilibrium.