So, this is actually the first scene of this chapter. I'll repost the revision for the Blood of Jerelian scene, which I believe is going to slot in as the second scene, but will need some modifications to make the transition between both scenes more seamless.
Still choosing between the variations of the name Jaleh, Jale, or Zhaleh
Chapter One
Distant from the Lantern’s Light
Young Jaleh waited in the light of the lanterns, watching the vivid shades of cerise in the skies fade into hues of black. Beyond the outskirts of her village, she waited for her kinsmen, for anyone who had escaped as she had before leaving everything behind. She studied the lights in the heavens, her gaze falling upon the full moon, bathing the dunes in eerie brilliance.
The cold wind almost blew away the scent of her burning village. From this sacred ground, the suffering of her kin was like a distant wail into the dune sea. Bathing in the lanterns’ warding light, Jaleh never felt so disconnected from the world around her. This was not the deliverance her father promised, but a purgatory from which there was no escape.
It was a nightmare she could not awake from, living every instance of horror from the last several hours.
From the height of the largest dune, the lanterns’ bright glow warded the Ulkin beasts away. It was the very reason slavers raiding her village had deigned to spare her. There was no doubt in her mind the raiders knew where she waited. Yet the thought of navigating the dunes without infinite light seemed to give them great hesitance.
Alert, Jaleh climbed out of the sand, a hunting bow clasped in her shivering hands. She swept her emerald eyes over the dunes below like a hawk eager for the kill. She noticed a lone torch blazing against the night, and several dark shapes huddled together around its flickering fire.
Jaleh did not hesitate, her fingers tightening around her bow with renewed purpose. She plucked an arrow from her quiver, nocking it on her bow. Lifting her aim and taking the direction of the wind into account, she loosed her first arrow toward the dark shapes.
Their voices came creeping out of the starlit gloom. Unfamiliar, their accents were an amalgamation of rough barbaric tongues, eloquent speech of the higher languages, and everything in between. She noticed chainmail glinting in the moonlight, hidden underneath robes of cream and crimson.
Slave warriors of the Carth Dominion, Jaleh realized, braving the dunes for her.
Her arrow fell upon the Zar warriors without warning, finding purchase in the throat of the one guiding the unit forward. Stifling a brief gasp, Jaleh surprised herself with her unerring accuracy. The warrior staggered in his march, his comrades crying out in alarm when he collapsed into the sands. His Zar brethren scrambled to recover the burning torch buried in the sand with him.
She nocked another arrow on her bow, taking aim at the first warrior to pull the torch out of the dunes. She let the arrow sail once more. Curving the shot in such a way that it bent in an arc back toward the earth, the arrow descended over her mark’s round shield. Lifting the torch out of the sands, her mark was struck straight through the chest, toppling him where he stood.
The Zar’qin, translating to slave warriors in the Carthite tongue, huddled around each other. They interlocked their shields into an impregnable wall, protecting them from waist to helmet. One of their comrades secured their burning torch again, but this time Jaleh could not kill him outright. Her arrows pinged off their shield wall, harmless, as they came racing up the dune toward her.
She backpedaled from the edge of the dune, cold fear seizing her by the heart when she came back into the light of the torches. She readied her bow for a final, desperate stand. Yet, when the Zar came charging into the light, breaking their shield wall when they crested the dune to come face to face with their assailant, her body froze.
The warriors in their unit were from across a variety of sundered realms and conquered lands. Each warrior wore their scars plain on their skin, woven over their faces and across their limbs like decades-old tapestries. Studying their mixed expressions, some of the Zar’qin were outright surprised their enemy was only a young girl. Horrified, she realized others did not seem to care, storming toward her with their hands un-sheathing their swords.
A grizzled voice, scarred and hoarse from decades of ceaseless war, she imagined, locked the entire Zar unit in place. A scarred brute of a man shoved his way from the rear lines to the fore of the unit. He was twice the size of any of his comrades, his scars as long as they were wide. It was as if someone had taken a great cleaver to certain areas of his arms and face, but had proven unable to land a solid blow hard enough to truly harm him.
He said, “Stay your blades.”
“Adofo,” One of the Zar voiced his challenge. “She killed two of our own! She should be put to death without question.”
“We’re burning her village, young Magar,” Adofo replied. “You were no different when the Zar’qin proved victorious at the walls of Sarune, even for a brief while.” The scarred giant turned his gaze to Jaleh. He watched her, impressed by something he found within her. “She was scared. That should come as no surprise for any in our line of work.”
Adofo’s squinting glare brightened out of nowhere, alight with an idea. “Or, if you’re so bold, Magar, why don’t you subdue her yourself? Go ahead, test her limits at your peril. You have my approval.”
Magar did not hesitate, removing his hand from the hilt of his blade when he swept forward. He made to strike Jaleh with reverse sweep of his hand, hoping to humiliate her in front of his comrades. He wanted to prove something, she realized, that she was nothing more than a woman.
Jaleh blocked his strike with a raised forearm, smashing her white-knuckled fist hard across the bridge of his nose. Beneath the strength of her tensed muscles, she felt the cartilage in his nose crunch to an awkward angle. Blood sprayed from Magar’s broken nose, just when Jaleh swept a powerful kick into the side of his left knee.
She dived after the Zar warrior when he toppled like a pile of stone. Catching him by the neck in a choking grapple, Magar managed to tear himself free with several savage elbows into her flank. Jaleh released her grip, lashing out with a ferocious kick straight to Magar’s temple when he made to stand. She watched him topple back into the sand.
Adofo was the first to wheeze with hysterical laughter, chortling at Magar with the rest of the Zar’qin as he struggled to find his feet in the dune sand. Their commander held a hand over his gut, cackling when he raised his other to halt the fight.
“Girl, that’s enough!” He said, “Serves you right, Magar, for trying to beat a young woman. I had a feeling there was strength in her. She strikes harder than most young males her age, I’ll give her that! Well done, a good bout of entertainment, at the very least.”
Adofo sobered, and called out to the young girl in their midst, He asked, “What is your name, girl?”
Jaleh let her silence speak volumes.
Adofo’s expression took on a more serious aspect. He insisted, “Jaleh, isn’t it?”
She froze, horrified by the forbidden knowledge he possessed.
“Listen, young Jaleh.” Adofo extended his hand in offering to her, saying, “the reality of this situation is that you have three options to choose from. I could have my Zar subdue you by force, and have them drag you in chains into the Dominion of Carth. I think after the beating you’ve given Magar, all of us here like you enough that we’d rather not have our hands forced. The other option is that you can take my hand, and we can journey toward your new home together, where I’ll put in a good word for you with our masters. If you desire to see your father again, this is the best option for you.
“The third option is that you’ll starve out here in the desert on your own. Not much of an option, sadly.”
Jaleh studied Adofo’s scarred features for any sign of deception, but she knew as much as he did, that she had little choice. She was now enslaved by the Dominion of Carth. She should choose death, she thought, but knew her father would be forever shamed, in either death or life. She had no way of knowing if Adofo spoke the truth about him. Yet her desire to keep living, made her eager to uncover the truth behind his words.
Cautious, Jaleh approached Adofo, reaching out and taking his hand in acceptance.
Adofo smiled, nodding. “A good decision. I’m glad you’re as sharp of mind as strong of body. The Zar’qin Guard will put you to good use in our ranks. You’ll not regret the chance for adventure and living a life free of the mundane toils of the others in the Zar caste. Now, let’s be off. Zar’qin, move out!”
Scene End
Some of the old school readers may recall some details about this scene. One may piece together that it's a complete overhaul of a certain chapter from Embers' 1.0 8).
The Blood Beneath the Earth - Scene I
Far beneath the Hanging Gardens of Tushik's Royal Palace, Lady Siroun Akopian of Jerelian descended deep beneath the mountain city. Dawn came cresting over the crimson mountains of Goratha and the Seventh River when she had arrived. The journey from the Kingdom of Zarna into the heart of the Carth Dominion had proven taxing and miserable beyond measure, but she had endured oppressive days and freezing nights to enter through Tushik's gates.
The City of Grand Canals, the locals called it. It was an ancient heirloom of the Sun Caller Kings of old, one of the last remaining fragments of humanity's most mythical age. Her bustling industrial complexes, formidable strongholds, and lofty palaces did not seem so unlike Jerelian, the city of her birth.
Aghast, a foreboding thought crossed her mind upon realization. Every moment wasted traveling from the Kingdom of Zarna into the Dominion was another moment the God King's relentless hordes butchered and despoiled Jerelian. The legacy of Zarna perhaps paled in comparison with the Children of the Sun's ancient and radiant histories, but it was no less noble and legitimate than their own.
Ancient and radiant, Siroun sneered at the thought, descending into the artificial tunnels hidden in the heart of the Golden Mountain, and underneath the entire city of Tushik. As sunlight from the surface dwindled into total darkness, Siroun wondered what dark secrets these so-called guardians of light kept locked away from prying eyes, shrouded behind an impregnable night.
Here, mortal hands had hewn the granite stone of the Golden Mountain. Human laborers once chiseled and carved, reshaping the impregnable earth itself into an unfathomable network of subterranean passages. The Zar who had created this cavern in particular had left behind a crude earthen passage as their legacy.
Yet Siroun knew the myths that abounded across Khios about opulent tombs, buried far beneath the Golden Mountain. From her recent studies and intelligence gained through espionage and intrigue, she too had learned that these catacombs housed the deceased bloodlines of the Sun Caller Kings, God Kings of Tushik and direct descendants of Sirius, the God of the Sun himself. She knew the Gate of the Sun Caller Kings would block their path, somewhere at the end of this long descent into the Golden Mountain's heart.
Feeling her blood boil with impatience, Siroun snapped at the nearest Zar'qin her jade green eyes spied.
"You there, Zar!" she called. "How much farther till we reach the Gate of the Sun Caller Kings? It's as if God King Erasyl hurled the entire Royal Catacombs into the very core of Thearus. Are you guiding us there or to the Gates of Her Palace?"
Made infamous by their reputation for excessive displays of violence on the battlefield, the Crimson Guard struck a likeness, mirroring Siroun's truest nature. After hearing a hundred tales of their brutality and ferocious exploits from their War Leader Kolb, she secured the loyalty of the Crimson Guard in discretion. Her offer for a small measure of the Akopian family's affluence swayed them out of the Dominion's hands in mind, body, and soul.
Now all their number marched for Siroun, armed against the Dominion's laws that forbid Zar from arming themselves within the ancient city itself, for the Gate of the Sun Caller Kings.
The Zar warrior swiveled his scarred visage in her direction, the flickering light of torches lending him a dreadful aspect. His grim countenance darkened, his mouth contorting into a sneer when he made to rebuke her.
Kolb's authoritative voice silenced his subordinate before he could utter a word.
"I'll have your tongue cut out if you answer." The Crimson Guard's War Leader forewarned. "Don't talk to the Lady or even gaze in her direction. Leave any effort of communication to your commander. Now keep your eyes on the path ahead of us. If anyone loyal to the Dominion discovers us, we'll all be drowning in enough blood to earn our namesakes."
Siroun looked at the Master of the Crimson Guard, shrugging. "I thought you said no soul dwells this far beneath the city? I could believe that too, considering the absence of light in this place. Would Erasyl condemn anyone to watch over his secrets in total darkness?"
Kolb answered, "Our illustrious God King may have cast the burial grounds of his ancestors far into the heart of the mountain, but he'd be a fool to leave it unguarded. I've never verified for myself, only hearing rumors and hearsay… if any of them are even close to being true, then some of the greatest legends in the Children of the Sun's ranks could lie in wait, right beneath our feet."
Siroun did not bat an eyelash at the thought. "I hired the Crimson Guard to see this task through. Are these fables and legends going to prove too much for your warriors to handle?"
The War Leader rattled with laughter, chortling at what seemed to be the promise of violence soon to come. "I realize you are new to our fair Dominion, Lady Siroun. I'll offer you a word of advice. Should you ever seek to come into conflict with the Children of the Sun, you should know a very popular saying they like to uphold as part of their creed.
"They never shirk from the thought of death, nor any foe worthy of them… but the Crimson Guard has endured enough violence and brutality on a hundred battlefields to make our masters look like children, playing at war. Should you need these ''fables and legends' ended as part of our arrangement, know that I've already accounted for our hidden foes. We will clear them without effort."
Siroun said, "Should we reach the Gate of the Sun Caller Kings in the next several moons, that is. We've been walking for hours… how much longer until we're there?"
Kolb's amber eyes brightened with consideration, replying, "I know the Golden Mountain is vast, and these caverns almost rival its depth. The Gate of the Sun Caller Kings should not be much farther. Beyond the sealed entrance will be the Royal Catacombs, and the tombs extend quite a way deeper into the mountain's heart, from what I understand."
Siroun paused when Kolb did. She knew without a doubt her searing glare gave him hesitance. After a prolonged period of locking eyes with one another, the War Leader turned toward the backs of the Crimson Guard, still pressing onward into the gloom.
Kolb commanded, "Brethren, rest your feet awhile! Our march will resume in a moment…" His words echoed into the endless dark, fading back into the disquiet sounds of armor jostling and subtle footfalls wading through the sand."
He said, "Lady Siroun, what is the issue here?"
Siroun cocked her head at him, unable to believe the naivety of the question. "I am uncertain, War Leader. Your entire war band has been absent from the Zar district since sunrise. It is likely the evening dusk by now. Are you not afraid that the Children of the Sun will notice an entire band of warriors absent in the city?"
"Honestly, Lady Akopian." Kolb answered. "The Crimson Guard can spare no time for fools, so we've chosen to tolerate none within our ranks. You hired us with your promise of compensation, worth eight times the difficulty of the task to be completed, as you said. None of the Zar escorting you are going to withdraw from our contract at this point. We're over five hundred fighters strong. Should the Children of the Sun dispatch Qin'sar after our trail, well… it'll likely be in small patrols. By the time our masters understand the severity of their mistake, Tushik will be well behind us by then."
Her jade eyes looked the scarred bear of a man up once. Something about his confidence in the face of peril and every near-instance of death etched into his flesh, she found alluring. Despite his grim nature, Kolb seemed a humble man. Siroun knew from the way he pretended to be oblivious to her appraising gaze. She spied some mischief on the blooded warrior's subtle smile when he turned his gaze back to the Crimson Guard.
Uncaring if any of his brethren noticed, Siroun reached out. She grazed her curious fingers across the cream silk robe layered over his armored chest.
Seizing Kolb's attention, Siroun peered into his dark amber eyes. She saw her own jade ones glinting back at her in the reflection they cast.
She said, "Make certain the Crimson Guard are swift about their purpose. Should we encounter any resistance upon entering or leaving the catacombs, then you'll make our enemies suffer. Is that understood?"
Kolb cocked his head at her in askance, but his smile broadened when he realized the truth. As a brief period of silence endured between them, both the War Leader and Siroun shared another pact with each other. Siroun realized the likeness they both shared existed, far more tangible than she ever dreamed of.
Kolb chuckled, the sound emanating with dark mirth. "For you, the Crimson Guard will drown our foes beneath seas of blood."
One of the Zar'qin called out from the fore of the marching column.
"War Leader Kolb! Lady Akopian! Come quick, we've discovered something buried farther beneath the cavern!"
Severed from their moment of connection, Siroun watched Kolb tear his gaze away. He gestured for her to follow before forging a path through the formation of five hundred warriors. Hurrying after him, Siroun pressed into the opening he created, shoving aside several warriors of various strengths and size. Before long, the dense formation parted to allow them deeper down the descent, where the caverns morphed to take on the aspect of smooth granite stairs.
Kolb's command for the Crimson Guard to continue their rest resounded through the dark, just when Siroun stood before the Gate of the Sun Caller Kings.