Carcin

by basil001







Carcin always feared that he would not prove strong enough to protect his charge; in Henare, he found one more than capable of protecting herself. Not that he doesn't still worry.
Henare is by far the stronger of the two, and more likely to protect Carcin than the other way around. Instead, he usually contents himself with helping her to maintain her clan, taking care of the mundane but vital tasks that keep the clan running.
He's good with kids, but is no longer in charge of watching the hatchlings after what happened to Ryti. Not that anyone else blames him for what happened. Still, he prefers to leave that duty to Bierah; these days, he just stops by to play with the kids.

Carcin is the lair's designated responsible adult. He's solid, practical, and kind, ensuring that everyone has what they need and everything is running smoothly. While Henare is out fighting and bringing in new members, he stays behind allocating resources, assigning tasks, and resolving disputes. When anyone in the clan has a problem, he's usually the one they come to first.

The only clan member he has trouble getting along with is Mask; he does his best, but it's hard for him to talk to them because all he can think of is Ryti. Mask assumes he just hates them, but since Haelan told him this he's been slowly trying to do better.


Unlike most Guardians, Carcin never really went on the Search. He was preparing to leave his birth clan when he first met Henare, and he knew immediately that she was his charge, and he would follow her anywhere. As soon as she told him she planned on founding her own clan, he started learning everything he could about the skills needed to keep a clan running. And when his clanmates laughed at the idea of a crippled mirror founding a clan, he soon shut them up.

The clan's success is due to Carcin's efforts at least as much as Henare's, but if you ask him he'll say it's all her.

---

---

"How do you know when you've found your charge?"

The hatchling's face was tipped up, eyes wide and expectant, probably waiting for the kind of stories Carcin had heard at that age. Stories of guardians knowing their charge from the moment they saw it, or even before, drawn across Sornieth by that call.

Instead, a little slowly and hesitantly, he told the child the truth.

"I didn't know Henare was my charge at first. All I knew was that she was hurt and needed my help." He had lifted that small shape, bloody and crumpled. Carried her so carefully to help and thought only she doesn't deserve to die here. Had fought back against the condescending pity and casual cruelty of his clanmates who saw her as nothing but another barbaric mirror not worth saving and thought only she deserves better than this.

And then his foster mother had asked him when he intended to leave for his Search, since he had been interrupted the first time, and he realized that what he had been looking for was right in front of him.

"It isn't an epiphany," he told the hatchling. "It isn't something that's out there, waiting for you to find it. It's a decision you make. It's looking at a person, or a place or a thing and saying, 'this is something worth fighting for'."

Maybe Henare had always been his charge, waiting to be discovered. But he had known he wanted to give his life to her, to protect her and all that she held dear, long before he had ever called her his charge.

---

---

The rolling green hills of the Windswept Plateau swept by below Carcin as he soared along, leaving behind everything he had ever known. The brilliant colors of the Cloudsong had long since vanished behind him, and a faint line on the horizon ahead hinted at the cliffs of the Reedcleft Ascent.

Somewhere out there, his Charge was waiting for him. Somewhere, a new home, a new life, and a purpose he had prepared for all his life. And here he was, striking out into an unknown as exhilirating and terrifying as his first dive into the Twisting Crescendo.

He landed, shaking out his wings and shifting the pack he carried. No good collapsing from exhaustion before the journey had even started. That was when he saw the blood.

It stained the grass, marking a trail as though something had been dragged. Following that trail was definitely not a good or safe idea; any number of horrible things could be waiting at the end to add his blood to the mix, and to die without ever having found his charge would be a terrible fate. But what if someone was hurt? What if someone needed his help? He followed the blood.

The splatters turned from rust to crimson. The trail became rougher, grass torn up and claw marks gouged into the earth as if something had dragged itself along, digging talons into the ground to pull itself forward. Carcin remembered his mother's stories about the tacantou, a terrible snake with dozens of legs that dragged itself along by its claws. He'd long ago written it off as a story to frighten hatchlings - be good, or the tacantou will get you! - but as the wind whistled over the lonely steppes and the smell of blood filled his nose, he couldn't quite banish the memory.

Following that trail seemed to take an eternity, though some part of his mind knew he hadn't gone far at all. As he rounded the curve of a small hill, he found its end, and the small, crumpled green and black shape of a mirror dragon that lay there. One wing trailed behind while the other pushed against the ground, slowing forcing the dragon's body another inch forward.

He rushed forward, hesitating at the last moment as he saw her face: white, almost skull-like, and stained with blood. Her eye stared past him, unfocused.

"Are - can you hear me?" He stepped forward carefully, but the other dragon didn't react. He wasn't sure she was even conscious. Was it safe to try moving her? Would it hurt her more, to pick her up? Would she survive long enough for him to bring help if he didn't? What was he supposed to do? She wasn't responding, wasn't reacting at all, and she struggled only faintly as he stepped forward and picked her up, a constant stream of comforting words he was only half aware of flowing from his mouth. He pushed off the ground, wings beating furiously as he struggled to lift into the air with his burden, and then the wind caught him and he flew upward, southward.

The Search could wait; he was taking her home, to the best surgeon in the Windswept Plateau.

---

"Do you need to be here?" The elderly fae's voice was as flat as ever, but Carcin thought the tilt of her crests looked disapproving.

"You can save her, right?" The fae had been the clan's doctor longer than Carcin had been alive. He had never known an injury or illness she couldn't fix.