Desperate Whispers

His head was now nothing but noise, the rumble being complimented well by the ringing that exploded through his senses. Still he fought for any perception of what was around him, barely missing being kicked onto his back and a weight holding him down.
He felt the snarl that escaped his throat as he swung his blade arm to attack, only for the comfort of the grip to swiftly leave his hand. He then clawed, not even sure if his right hand was digging into skin, robe, or even open air. At least he couldn’t feel the wound there, unlike his leg that was warm from the leaking blood.

Save yourself

The deep voice that pierced the cacophony sent a fresh surge of panic through him, fueling his defense even as it made his blood run cold.

Forget the girl, she is nothing but dead weight

He couldn’t even hear Silina at this point, but he still denied this inner dialogue. She had warned him of the attack and had been helping him since. He owed her enough to try and help in return.

You will die with the weaklings then

The low chortle faded as his sight began to return, letting him see a dagger flying towards his eye. Able to just dodge it, he still felt his ear gain a new mark.
He then hoisted his hips up on his good leg, throwing the assassin off balance enough to smack her face on the rock beneath them. A quick elbow returned the favor for the kick and while not dead, she wasn’t getting up soon.
In getting up himself, he then saw Silina barely moving and the man above her tightening the rope around her neck. Tarmen couldn’t run fast enough now, so ripped the dagger from his arm and threw on instinct.
Missing the man's temple, the pommel still struck him in the eye hard enough to make him let go with a yell at the same time that Silina sent a gust of sand to further drive him away. He then did his best to hobble closer, scraping his machete off the ground and fighting a growing urge to abandon the girl.