The Price of A Coin

The coin stayed with Tarmen as he floated through the void of his unconscious, a lone talisman that made him aware that something bad had happened. He couldn’t remember what, but it all felt like he was in the caves again in a forced sleep. The thought brought a panic to him and he desperately willed himself awake, unwilling to believe his and Voah’s freedom had been a dream.
The first signs of waking came to him when he registered an impact on his face. As further feeling returned to him, he felt the rough hand that continued to slap him every few moments.
Once given control over his body, Tarmen jolted awake and tried to lunge, to attack, only to feel the rope that bound his limbs restricting his attempt to a weak jump off the ground. At least the sand in his ass reminded him that he was far from the darkness, but no further from danger.
This earned his captors amusement, the men he had angered a few nights before taunting him in their own tongue and sharing a laugh. He didn’t need to understand them to want to beat the snot of them both.
The one who had thrown the coin leaned closer in his cockiness, pretending to give Tarmen a sporting shot at his cheek before slapping him again and chuckling. If his mouth weren’t so dry he would have shown his marksmanship with some phlegm, but for now he could only glare with reserved rage.
With attack being off the table, Tarmen guessed his remaining option was to try and get some answers, yelling at his captors to get their attention.
“Do you understand anythin’ I say? You wantin’ revenge or money, cause of it’s money you’re more stupid than I thought.”