The Guardian

As I lifted into the gentle air, golden rays burned through the early morning skies. Its glow shimmered off my pearl-white feathers like the colors of the rainbow. Cotton clouds like down pillows awoke and parted as I climbed towards the indigo heavens. Fading stars winked one last time before they slipped off to their slumber for the day. The earth below diminished as I worked the air flows and rose ever higher. The terraformed artwork appeared as patchworks of ochre fields, green grasses, and shrinking emerald forests below.

I was born to fly. The joy of flight always calmed me, for I was in my natural element, but today the serenity faded with each flap of my wings. I had left behind the ones I loved, for duty had pressed me into service. Gentle tears filled my Dove's eyes, and I deceived myself into believing they came from the whipping breeze on my face.

I would have to fly to heights I've never attained to survive the unpredictable tempest of Falcons Gap. An updraft would be my salvation; a downdraft could send me spiraling into jagged rocks. There was no choice. A longer, safer route was not an option.

My mission is the last hope for our flock to avoid extermination by the return of the dark realms. The urgent message must be delivered, or all is lost for my family, my flock, and the world. The Great Eagles of Candata were our last hope. They owed us. The world owed us, for we are the watchers. They will listen and realize our fate is theirs, for the end of civilization is near.

For centuries we have forfeited thousands of our flocks' lives as watchers of peace. We stopped the demons of darkness from crossing over in the victory of the Raven Wars. Ravens are not of this world and escaped the domain of hell. They are forever trying to bring its darkness and chaos here. They are the forerunners preparing for the final reign of darkness upon the earth.

The sun burst brighter in the blue-domed skies, energizing my courage as I sailed above the clouds. A shadow of movement caught my eye below. Two enemy Grackles flew patrol, and I wondered if they spotted me. I could only hope the Raven’s scouts were blinded by the sun. I didn't fear them, they weren't warbirds, but I was horrified the Ravens and Crows would intercept me. I altered my course and angled away from them.

A lone dove, a guardian of peace, I sought to warn the world that the Ravens had once again breached the Caverns of Hormel. Their dark lords would enter the world in three days to wreak havoc. All creation, unaware, would perish. The avian world, since the beginning, had been guardians of the air protecting the innocents of earth from the evil spirits who sought to destroy the balance of the world. Today, as my ancestors had done before, I flew for peace. The motto of the Guardians is "We come in peace."

Snowcapped peaks surrounded me as I entered the gauntlet of mountainous rocks. A tailwind blew in my favor, and Falcons Gap opened before me like the mouth of a beast. I beat my wings harder in the ever-thinning air as I passed through an altitude of nine-thousand feet. Falcon's gap was at an elevation of ten thousand-one hundred. I needed to be at least ten thousand to attempt my approach. The angle of attack had to be perfect because my short wingspan did not allow me to generate instant power.

I prayed to the goddess Aphrodite’s for an updraft. A down draft would mean death, with my hollow bones smashed into the rocks and my white feathers blown across the mountain range. If I failed, I would never cuddle with my sweet Mercy again. For whatever days remained before the onslaught, my partner would look to the blue skies and coo a wail of tears in devastating loss. My children would be subjected to hell on earth before they perished. I could not fail.

Determined, I banked right and nosed up to circle higher. Fatigue wore me down as each foot of altitude gained required more energy. Yet, I climbed higher.

At just over ten thousand feet, I turned perpendicular to the gap above the mountain's sheer face. Five hundred feet away, a thermal lifted me like an elevator to ten thousand five hundred feet. I cleared the front of the cliff with hundreds of feet to spare.

As the rocks and mountaintop brush passed three hundred feet below, I cooed in celebration. I relaxed and glided across the pass when a sudden headwind ripped from the north side and almost stopped me in flight. I didn't stall and fall, but I couldn't fly forward either. I beat my wings harder but slipped back toward the south cliff, the dangerous thermals, and a jagged graveyard. A sudden gust forced me closer to the ground, where I could see a lone Magpie watching, perched on a barren tree. It was over. I had celebrated too soon. In seconds I would be cast upon the rocks.

The Magpie, an omen of my impending death, warbled a song. She didn't sing of doom but offered a solution and hope. Legends said that Magpies were the spiritual psychics of the bird world. A sixth sense must have made her aware of the importance of my mission, or the goddess Aphrodite had placed her there. Desperate, I listened.

Angle your attack.

Sweep your wings back.

Tack left and right,

Or you will lose the fight.

The blathering birds were known to be know-it-alls and neutral in the War of the Birds. I couldn't land because unknown predators may find me a tasty lunch. I had no other option but to attempt her advice.

I swept my fatigued wings tighter, dropped my left to slip across the steady force of wind and gained a few feet. When my ground speed slowed, I lifted my left, lowered my right, and reversed direction. Fighting for every foot, I slid forty-five degrees to the right. Left, right, left, right, a foot gained, then ten, until I escaped the ripping wind and shot free into stable air on the north side.

I laughed and maneuvered into a perfect slow roll as I dove towards the coastline. I had made it.

Exhausted, I locked my wings open and glided down toward the aqua-green ocean in the distance and the Eagles of Candata. The seeds I had clutched provided an in-flight snack to energize me on the last leg of my mission.

I had survived Falcons Gap, where Doves had never ventured. I, Gilmore, the White Dove, a Guardian of Peace, more than a pretty symbol, will help save the world as my ancestors had done for centuries.

***

My mission was half complete, and I entered a slow wave nap to recover from the challenge of Falcon's Gap. Half of my brain rested while the other controlled my flight. I dreamed of a celebration to come when I returned, and the Ravens had been defeated. My name would become renowned in the annals of avian lore. Instead of tears of loss, my partner, Mercy, would be elevated in our society with overwhelming joy. My children would be proud of their father. I envisioned the honor of the olive leaf being bestowed on me by the elders. In my dream, a dark shadow passed overhead and blocked the sunlight.

A Raven screamed, "Stop, what madness is this?" and I awoke as two Ravens buzzed over my head. The speed of their pass disrupted my glide, and I rotated into a spin. I relaxed and let my body's natural flight ability correct itself and level off. My head whipped around, and my eyes scanned high and low to find the intruders. They charged toward me from below on a collision course. I took evasive action and peeled left at the last moment. The rush of displaced air from their mighty wings inverted my flight path. I flipped over and sped toward the ground five thousand feet below. It was my only chance to survive. With my wings tucked close, I reached fifty miles per hour, then sixty, then seventy. If I went any faster, my wings would snap. Two black missiles were behind me and closing quickly.

"Aphrodite, help me," I cooed, "forgive my arrogance."

"You are nothing but a pigeon," cried the Raven closest.

"Nothing will stop the coming of our dark lords," screamed the other.

The impact sent my feathers flying in a puff of white. Searing pain racked my body as I free-fell wing over wing.

The Ravens circled around me, laughing. "You're a dead bird, Whitey, see ya," and skirted away towards Falcon's Gap."

"I have failed. In my pride, I celebrated that which is not mine. The price is death for all I love."

My left wing responded, and I slowed the rotation by stretching it wide, but I continued in a flat spin. At two thousand feet, the ground came into a twirling focus. The patchwork of the earth's surface became rolling hills, boulders, and trees that would become my hidden grave.

"Please Aphrodite, not for me, but for all that is good, help me. Let me perish but allow me to save others."

A strong, gentle breeze from the coast with a warmth I had never felt before lifted me to suspend my broken body in the air. A golden aura laden with a dozen White Doves floated from the heavens and encompassed me. I knew they were my ancestors of old. A woman spoke from the heavens,

"I am Aphrodite. You have been heard, Gilmore, the White Dove and forgiven. Fly in love and peace for your mission is dire. You are a Guardian of Peace, not a bird of arrogance and pride. There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace," said Aphrodite's. **

Silver, white, and gold strands like fine threads wove around my wings and body from my ancestral family. I was healed and redeemed. The gilded aura left as it had come and ascended to the heavens. Humbled and reborn, I restored my heading toward the coast to fulfill my mission, not for myself, but for all creatures of the world in this realm.

Hours later, golden rays of the setting sun gleamed off the ocean's surface. Variations of amber painted the bottom of the yawning cotton candy clouds, and early stars twinkled awake to welcome another night. The Eagles of Candata’s nest came into sight and I knew this mission was just the beginning of my journey as a true Guardian of Peace. My motto has become "There is quiet in the heart of love. I have come to pierce the pain and come to peace."

***

** Aphrodite's Quote is from Sara Teasdale's magnificent Poem, Sappho.

Sappho

by Sara Teasdale, from The Little Book of Modern Verse, 1917

b. 1884 -d. 1934 Pulitzer Prize Special Citations and Award Winner

***

The twilight's inner flame grows blue and deep,

And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea,

The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees.

Twilight has veiled the little flower face

Here on my heart, but still the night is kind

And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast.

Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk

Along the surges creeping up the shore

When tides came in to ease the hungry beach,

And running, running, till the night was black,

Would fall forespent upon the chilly sand

And quiver with the winds from off the sea?

Ah, quietly the shingle waits the tides

Whose waves are stinging kisses, but to me

Love brought no peace, nor darkness any rest.

I crept and touched the foam with fevered hands

And cried to Love, from whom the sea is sweet,

From whom the sea is bitterer than death.

Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more

To thee, God's daughter, powerful as God,

It is that thou hast made my life too sweet

To hold the added sweetness of a song.

There is a quiet at the heart of love,

And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.

I hold my peace, my Cleïs, on my heart;

And softer than a little wild bird's wing

Are kisses that she pours upon my mouth.

Ah, never any more when spring like fire

Will flicker in the newly opened leaves,

Shall I steal forth to seek for solitude

Beyond the lure of light Alcæus' lyre,

Beyond the sob that stilled Erinna's voice.

Ah, never with a throat that aches with song,

Beneath the white uncaring sky of spring,

Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love

The quiver and the crying of my heart.

Still I remember how I strove to flee

The love-note of the birds, and bowed my head

To hurry faster, but upon the ground

I saw two wingèed shadows side by side,

And all the world's spring passion stifled me.

Ah, Love, there is no fleeing from thy might,

No lonely place where thou hast never trod,

No desert thou hast left uncarpeted

With flowers that spring beneath thy perfect feet.

In many guises didst thou come to me;

I saw thee by the maidens while they danced,

Phaon allured me with a look of thine,

In Anactoria I knew thy grace,

I looked at Cercolas and saw thine eyes;

But never wholly, soul and body mine,

Didst thou bid any love me as I loved.

Now I have found the peace that fled from me;

Close, close, against my heart I hold my world.

Ah, Love that made my life a lyric cry,

Ah, Love that tuned my lips to lyres of thine,

I taught the world thy music, now alone

I sing for one who falls asleep to hear.