Story Piece

These are the first five paragraphs from an untitled short story that I plan on making a larger work out of someday. It probably needs revision still, but I don't plan on working on it again for a while. I'm working on a larger novel, and I have been for years (mostly starting it again and again).
Please enjoy, and remember this is my work. Any references to anything already published is unintentional.

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Fyodor leaned back against the cold stone of his prison cell. It was primitive, made with badly-cut rocks and thick mortar, but the walls were thick and had settled firmly into their place in life. There was almost no light at all, only what came through the bars that separated him from freedom. The place had once been a tower, it seemed, for the wall he leaned on to face those iron bars was smooth and neat. When it had been converted the prison cells had been added on the inside, and the once-proud tower was now filled with nothing but death and darkness, smattered with a few hopeful torches for light.

                He opened his mental connection with Ariana. Neither of them knew where the other was- they had been separated when they were brought to the tower. She was sick, and had been for the last couple of days. But there was no way of escaping- they had searched his every pocket, and wherever Ari was, it was far enough away that he couldn’t access his magic. When they brought him hard bread and stale water, they shoved it through the iron bars, leaving him no way to escape without a key. It was amazing how one small bit of metal could keep him from freedom.

                He felt Ariana open her end of the connection. He could force through the connection if he wanted, but unless it was an emergency he liked to let her respond. She was cold, and her head hurt her. Someone was rattling the doors of her cell- he felt her surprise as a rough hand grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. She stumbled as she was shoved forward to follow the other men. Where were they taking her?

                Fyodor stared at the stones, almost not seeing them. What if they killed her? He’d be powerless.  He’d be slaughtered in an instant without her. Perhaps he’d have a fighting chance- but without any weapons, he would perish. There were a few long minutes as she was pushed along past cell after cell, shoved up some stairs, past more cells…

                Iron rattled into his thoughts. He looked over to see his own cell door being opened. A chance! He lunged to his feet, but a second man appeared, a bow drawn and aimed for him. The first man, standing in the opening, looked at Fyodor, challenging him to try and escape. Fyodor slumped where he stood, and let the man shackle his hands together. They prodded him out of the cell, and onto the walkway.