The Aeronaut's Daughter

The Battle for the Knife

Outside his house, a shaman was holding a bunny toy, rubbing it tenderly to send waves of summoning energy which drew a certain aeronaut, his daemon and a Pansebjorne. 

For a long night, Iera had carried Lee and Hester on her back along the river. They had yet to find any sign of Mr Grumman. Iera was getting slower so Lee dismounted her and he dove into the river to find fish for the two of them. He sat down on a sandy shore with Hester. 

"What a ride that was," she panted.

"Never underestimate the speed of an armoured bear," Lee said fondly. 

Iera came stalking wet out of the water with some salmon. "It may not be your favourite Lee but it's food,"

"Thanks, Iera," Lee said. "You saved us back there and you carried us so far,"

"I am proud to be a protector to the father of the girl who freed me," Iera genuflected. 

Lee got a fire going and they cooked the fish. They dined and they were full up already. 

"A perfect meal. Not bacon of course but just as tasty," Lee said. "Now, we just keep going to find Grumman,"

"I think we may have already," Iera said.

"What makes you say that?" Lee asked.

"Check that out," Hester looked upwards.

Lee saw an osprey eagle descending towards them. It landed on a branch in front of them. 

"Lee Scoresby. I thought you'd be more tortoise than hare,"

"Hey," Hester snapped.

"You are a daemon," Iera realised.

"I am. And I must say, Lee, you look very much like her picture," the osprey said. 

"Who are you talking about?" Lee asked.

"Your wife of course. Follow me. He is waiting for you," the osprey flapped her wings. "Follow me," 

Iera allowed Lee to mount her again. At a fast pace, they followed their guide through the nearby forest till they came to a village of houses with strange totems.

"I smell strange magic here," Iera growled softly.

"Easy Iera," Lee soothed. 

Iera slowly stalked through the path which separated the two rows of huts from another. They saw men in long coats of many colours and furry capes observing them. Shaman paint marked their hands and faces. Their bird daemons perched on their shoulders or ritual hats. 

"Shamans," Hester breathed. 

"You weren't kidding about the magic here," Lee whispered. "Best you keep the growling low,"

"It is they who should keep their glowers low," Iera growled. 

They followed the osprey to the very edge of the village where they saw the largest hut on a gentle hill. "This is it," Lee realised. He dismounted Iera and touched her face gently. "You wait here Iera and keep watch. Soldiers may yet track us down.

"Be careful Lee," she said. 

"And remember to be nice to the shamans if they come near," Hester advised. 

"It is they who should be careful," Iera remained weary of the villages who remained glaring at them from their chairs. She turned around and narrowed her eyes at anyone who dared to look at her. 

Lee walked up to the hut as he saw the osprey daemon perch on the top. As he approached the open door, a man in his forties walked out. He was shrouded in a shaman coat with red weavings and he had black paint lining his fingers. He had a man bun right above his black hair. "Good. You're here," he greeted.