Transition

This is a fictional story responding to a prompt by Peregrine Arc. I have followed the themes of taking the form of a bird, floating feathers, ocean and lighthouse from the prompt but changed the location. For the original prompt in its entirety please go to the following url:
https://peregrinearc.com/2019/05/11/may-writing-prompt-the-gift-of-flight/

He galloped to the lighthouse keeper and instructed him to light the beacon. Turning he heard a whoosh and doubled over as the arrow pierced his stomach. He spun his horse and galloped away as another arrow drove into his back. He took the spiraling cliff path down to the beach and sent the summons. He knew there should be more words, but the agony was intense, clouding his brain, and the remaining words would not come. The horse stumbled pitching him onto the white sand of the beach. He lay in a stupor trying to fight through the pain, aware that he was losing blood fast and needed to act. He glanced at the ocean. Water would revive him. He willed himself to crawl forward snapping the end of the arrow protruding from his stomach. Ignoring the arrow impaled in his back, elbows beneath his body, he struggled forward. He passed out again. The incoming tide washed over his body, reviving him, but threatening to drag him out into the ocean.

He luxuriated in the soft flow upon his face and he reached towards the heavens. Thousands of raptors were circling above, their feathers cascading down to earth. His call had been answered. He reached out with his awareness and the peregrine falcon descended and landed on his wrist. With his dying breath the words came to him and his soul was transferred to the falcon. His soulless, human body spun in rhythm to the tides and disappeared beneath the ocean.

The pain was gone,he felt so alive seeing with his new eyes, flapping his wings to the rhythm of air floating above and below. He propelled himself forward and flew out over the ocean spying the ships sailing towards shore. The invaders were coming.

He flew towards the light house. Had the beacon been lit. His keen sight spotted the archer in the sparse copse by the side of the light house. The lighthouse keeper was still trapped within the confines of the lighthouse, aware of the archer but unable to act. It was at that moment the lighthouse keeper decided to take a chance and ignite the wood that would carry the warning signal. He crept forward with his flame.

Circling a mile above the lighthouse, the falcon spotted the archer stringing his bow preparing to kill his prey. He calculated that from this distance he could reach the archer in about eighteen seconds. Would that be enough time. Wings folded the falcon swooped towards the archer at his maximum speed of 200 mph. The archer drew but before he could release the falcons talons ripped into his eyes and the arrow flew wild. The falcon continued to rip the archers face with his talons and the archer, blinded, stumbled over the edge of the cliff to his death.

The lighthouse keeper lit the flame and the warning signal was seen and carried forward warning of the invaders. The peregrine falcon, now fully aware, soared to lead his army of raptors that would perform their part in the war to come.