True born, more added

[Damiynn]

Chapter 1
Pelarus knew the people of his mountain village considered him special. He was one of the true born, one of the ancient descendants brought by the gods from ancient Greece and Egypt to Mallyria when they left earth.
As the slave master’s knotted rope ripped the flesh from his back in bloody strips, he did not consider himself such.
At least none of the others in the raiding party had been captured, he thought, shaking his head and biting down on his lower lip as he fought back another scream. He only had himself to blame for being captured.
The gods must have wanted it, he thought as the lash continued falling. He knew if the same thing had happened again, he would have been captured twice.
In his mind’s eye he saw the small child wondering aimlessly out onto the cobbled street again. Then he saw the herd of stampeding cattle that his men had engineered to be a distraction hurtling straight at her. A flash of sunlight on her golden hair had drawn his attention and he had wheeled his horse around. Charging through the stampeding herd he reached her just before she was overtaken.
With a dexterity that comes from being True born, he had snagged the small girl out of death’s jaws by one arm. He remembered how light she had felt when he had yanked her up into the saddle, then his horse had stumbled. He could still feel the hooves crashing into him as he had thrown his body over hers.
The child was the youngest daughter of the city’s current mayor and the spark of his life. His selfless act had spared him death by stoning for raiding. But now clinging to the whipping pole in the hammering hot sun, he wondered whether he might have been better off dead.
“Slaves are too work, Pelarus. Slaves are to lift, carry, and set the stone,” hissed the rat-faced Dramel into his ear. “They are not supposed to help other fallen slaves who can’t complete their tasks. How many times do I have to tell you this!” The knotted rope fell again and Pelarus felt another layer of flesh ripped from his back. “Slaves do as they are told!”
“Enough Tarrus!” came a sharp bark, the voice filled with the tone of command.
Tarrus’ head snapped around to stare at the Master of slaves, Mordrun Coule. “He won’t be able to work at all if you keep using that rope on his back that way.”
Tarrus dropped his head submissively and his raised arm dropped, the bloody rope staining the sand under it red. “I hear and obey master.”
Mordrun eyed the lowered head of his slave keeper skeptically. Does he really think I don’t know what games he plays with trueborns who are marked as slaves. Rumors had floated up through the ropes to even his own ears about Tarrus’ treatment.
He did, Mordrun was sure, he had seen how he had been delivering the lash, had seen the look of hatred twisting his features before he stopped the lash. “Tarrus, until this slaves back is healed, completely, he is not to be lashed, if he is, then you are to be also twice for his every one.”
Tarrus’ lowered head jerked up and he almost met Mordrun’s eyes. Quickly he recovered and lowered his head again. Knowing that he might have possibly received a death sentence, he said through gritted teeth, “I hear and obey sire.” Now he had to protect this slave, if the other keepers found out about the master’s words they would deliberately lash his slave in order to see him lashed as well.
Grabbing the reins of his horse in one hand, Mordrun gestured with the other, the sun glittered off his metal gauntlet. “Have those two take him off the pole and carry him to the healers tents.
Tarrus waved his bloody rope at two slaves pulling carts and they set them aside and freed Pelarus’ manacles from the large iron ring holding him up alongside the pole.
His body collapsed under the weight of his chains, and Pelarus found himself face first in the bloodstained sand. Two sets of arms lifted him, and he felt himself dragged away.

[ctg]

Much better start, but there are couple of things, first is the head-popping. You are talking via Pelarus, using his thoughts, feelings, memories and observations to describe the scene, and progress to the action. Therefore you cannot step out into someone else head, and use them to describe the scene. Stepping into Mordrun and Talrus head would confuse people, you either has to separate these bit by one empty line or then give them own chapter. Rule of the thump, you have use a single POV throughout one chapter, and not switch in the middle.

The second thing is the lack of the description on why the mountain village people believe his is a special. Two lines is cool, but I as a reader, I want to know more about it.

The third thing is the use of the flashback (the child scene), it confused me as I was reading it happening in a present tense. Please, use a passive tense when you describe the flashback scene.

Otherwise, you are getting there. This is cool stuff, keep writing.

[Kahnmark]

Chapter 1
Pelarus knew the people of his mountain village considered him special. He was one of the true born, one of the ancient descendants brought by the gods from ancient Greece and Egypt to Mallyria when they left earth.
do they fear or subject him?

As the slave master’s knotted rope ripped the flesh from his back in bloody strips, he did not consider himself such.
At least none of the others in the raiding party had been captured, he thought, shaking his head and biting down on his lower lip as he fought back another scream. He only had himself to blame for being captured.
I don't think I'd be able to think straight - but if I were used to this kind of treatment I may have some kind of mantra.

The gods must have wanted it, he thought as the lash continued falling.
suggestion: "As the lash fell"
He knew if the same thing had happened again, he would have been captured twice.
I don't think this is a necessary sentence.

In his mind’s eye he saw the small child wandering aimlessly out onto the cobbled street again. Then he saw the herd of stampeding cattle, which his men had engineered as a distraction, hurtling straight at her. A flash of sunlight on her golden hair had drawn his attention and he had wheeled his horse around. Charging through the stampeding herd (repitition),(comma needed) he reached her just before she was overtaken.

With the dexterity of a True born, he had snagged the small girl from death’s jaws by one arm (by one arm or with one arm?). He remembered how light she had felt when he had yanked (maybe "pulled" or "snatched" would be better?) her up into the saddle, but his horse had stumbled. He could still feel the hooves crashing into him as he had thrown his body over hers.

The child was the youngest daughter of the city’s current mayor and the spark of his life. His selfless act had spared him death by stoning for raiding. But now, clinging to the whipping pole in the hammering (better adjective needed) hot sun, he wondered whether he might have been better off dead.

"Slaves are too work, Pelarus. Slaves are to lift, carry, and set the stone," hissed the rat-faced Dramel into his ear. "They are not supposed to help other fallen slaves who can’t complete their tasks. How many times do I have to tell you this!"
The knotted rope fell again and Pelarus felt another layer of flesh ripped from his back.
"Slaves do as they are told!"

"Enough Tarrus!" came a sharp bark, the voice filled with the tone of command. (condense)

Tarrus’ head snapped around to stare at the Master of slaves, Mordrun Coule.
"He won’t be able to work at all if you keep using that rope on his back that way."

Tarrus dropped his head submissively and his raised arm dropped, the bloody rope staining the sand under it (not needed) red.
"I hear and obey master."

Mordrun eyed the lowered head of his slave keeper skeptically.

Does he really think I don’t know what games he plays with trueborns who are marked as slaves.
Rumors had floated up through the ropes to even his own ears about Tarrus’ treatment.
He did, Mordrun was sure, he had seen how he had been delivering the lash, had seen the look of hatred twisting his features before he stopped the lash.
It's enough to say that Mordrun is skeptical of Tarrus' motives - his thoughts aren't needed, especially since the POV should stay with Pelarus.

"Tarrus, until this slaves back is healed, completely, he is not to be lashed, if he is, then you are to be also twice for his every one."
This tells us that Mordrun seems to care about the slaves, or maybe just Peralus.

Tarrus’ lowered head jerked up and he almost met Mordrun’s eyes. Quickly he recovered and lowered his head again. Knowing that he might have possibly received a death sentence, he said through gritted teeth, "I hear and obey sire."

Now he had to protect this slave, if the other keepers found out about the master’s words they would deliberately lash his slave in order to see him lashed as well.
Only take out this last sentence for POV to remain with Peralus. Maybe Peralus is wondering why Mondrus cares about his safety?

Grabbing the reins of his horse in one hand, Mordrun gestured with the other, sunlight glittering from his metal gauntlet. "Have those two take him off the pole and carry him to the healers tents."

Tarrus waved his bloody rope at two slaves pulling carts and they set them aside and freed Pelarus’ manacles from the large iron ring holding him up alongside the pole. (run-on)

His body collapsed under the weight of his chains, and Pelarus found himself face first in the bloodstained (bloodsoaked, maybe?) sand. Two sets of arms lifted him, and he felt himself dragged away.