No matter how or what I tried, I could not hold a conversation with Henry or George for long. I could go on for a few minutes if we talked about magic, but such conversations could only go on for so long before I ran out of things to say and I would once again fall into silence. When I did, either one of them would jump in and start talking. George took the lead more often than not, but Henry did not hesitate to jump in if the opportunity presented itself.
Shimazu did not speak a fraction as much as they did. She offered a comment here or there but remained reserved and to herself for most of their conversation. At first, I believed she had no interest in interacting with us, but when I noticed her fidgeting with her swords, I thought otherwise. She still looked disinterested, but I questioned to what extent.
After around an hour of travel, the horse came to a stop, and the blue man dismounted to collect whatever child was next on his list. From the corner of my eye, I saw how fast the horse could travel, and although a few plants looked familiar, I doubted we were still in Russia.
Once we stopped, both George and Henry huddled around each other, motioning for the two of us to join. Shimazu looked at them with borderline disdain, and I wasn’t comfortable getting so close to them.
“You two are no fun,” Henry moaned, going back to conspiring with his English counterpart.
“Were they like this the entire time?” I asked, taking the opportunity to move over to her.
“The French boy came before me, but once the British one came, they started causing problems,” she answered. “Or rather, more problems than before.”
“What kind of problems? They have been rather well behaved, haven’t they?” I asked.
“They’re too loud and concern themselves with other people’s business,” Shimazu replied. “In addition…”
She trailed off, pointing to the two boys, who each had their hands pointed at the sternum. Magical light swirled below them, etching something into the bone.
At the same time, the shouts of two boys came from below as their bodies flew into the rib cage next to the place where Henry and George were working. And just like I had, they both landed flat, groaning and moaning as they tried to detangle themselves from one another.
I could not understand a word either of them said, nor could I pick up on an accent. What I could pick up on was their darker complexion, adjacent to those in the Mediterranean. As I opened my mouth to ask them if they knew some English, or possibly French, the two made the mistake of standing up, stumbling to their feet right where the bone had been etched. The two of them shouted as small explosions amounting to little more than flashing lights danced around their feet. Both Henry and George burst out into laughter, the Brit almost falling over as he clenched his stomach.
“The French boy nearly set my kimono on fire, and the two were bickering amongst themselves over what kind of mischief to pull with you when you arrived. You were lucky they couldn’t agree on what they wanted to do,” Shimazu explained, settling back down after jumping up at the sudden explosions.
“Did you see that?" Henry asked, throwing himself onto the ground next to me. “Imagine what we could have pulled off if the two of you were willing to help. With some more firepower, we could have sent them flying.”
“Back off,” the girl warned, her hand moving to the handle of one of her swords.
“Sheesh, no need to be so defensive,” he replied, moving closer to me as if I could protect him.
“It would be nice to have some actual help,” George remarked.
“Excuse me?” Henry stammered.
“Here we go again,” the girl grumbled.
"Oh please, as if you did anything to help with that trick. I’ll have you know I did most of the work,” the Brit continued.
“Ha! As if you could think of something so clever,” Henry mocked.
“Excuse me?”
The smug look on Henry’s face told me he had something to say more, but before he could open his mouth, the two brothers who had since recovered from the prank stepped in between the two. They shouted what I assumed were insults and swears, stepping in the way when one of them tried to step to the side. Once it became apparent no one understood a word of what they said, they backed down but continued to glare in our direction. Even Shimazu and I were victims of their hostile stares.
Henry and George exchanged glances, unsure how to react to getting yelled at in a language they did not understand. The French boy broke first, laughter slipping from his lips. George tried to resist at first, but he too fell to laughter.
“We are going to spend the next few years with those idiots,” Shimazu mumbled.
—
The two troublemakers continued to play pranks on the misfortunate souls whom the blue man flung into the horse with reckless abandon. Most of the time they created traps that would spring whenever their victim set foot on them, creating loud and bright noises. No matter who fell into them, the reaction never changed. They would yell and run away, only to turn back around and curse the two out in a language few understood.
Once, they created a trap that sent out a shockwave that threw the victim across the horse. Such a spell earned the ire of the blue man, who shouted back at them, threatening to come down if they did it again. If he had said nothing, I knew those on the sidelines who got caught up in the spell would have done something about it.
Despite the chaos they created time and time again, none of the children did anything to stop them. Few approved, and a few times I feared a fight would break out, but somehow cooler heads prevailed and they continued their antics.
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When the two weren’t the center of my attention, I tried to talk with Shimazu. She did not make for pleasant conversation and never answered with more than a few words and a nod, but she was one of the few who could speak enough English to hold a conversation. A few could speak in broken sentences, but it was enough to introduce themselves and little else. Those who could speak proper English did so either too fast for me to keep up or were boys I wasn’t comfortable engaging with.
Even though she was little more than a wall to bounce my thoughts off of, I found doing so to be relaxing as I explored thoughts and ideas about what we would do at the camp or what things we would see and deal with. Anything that came to mind went out my mouth.
I tried to lure Shimazu into more intricate conversations by asking her what she thought of the situation. She resisted such attempts at first, but through my persistence, I pried her open to speaking more than single sentences.
Through my one-sided conversation with her, I realized something that made me question the makeup of the children The Nest chose for the mission. The majority were western Europeans: Frenchmen, Brits, Spaniards, Portuguese, and other such nationalities. It was their colonies we were going to operate in, and it would allow them to blend in with the local population. Even those we collected from the Mediterranean made some sense.
People like Shimazu would not benefit from such advantages. Japan, China, or India were all on the opposite side of the Americas. In order for any of them to get to the continent, they would have to go around the south of Africa or walk through an entire continent before crossing another ocean. While possible, I doubted those from Pangea would find it normal.
Unable to see The Nest’s vision, I started contemplating the order in which we went to each country. Based on what Shimazu said, they started in France, moved to Japan, then to Britain, and finally to Russia. Such a path made no sense to me, and when I brought it to my friend’s attention, she could not come up with an explanation for such an inefficient course. To make matters worse, the horse picked up two more Brits and another French boy.
At that point, even those who hadn’t been keeping track of the new arrivals noticed the erratic path. I did not understand what they had to say about it, but I saw many pointing at the Brits and Frenchmen. From what I could tell, Henry and George didn’t mind having the additional company, and the way George interacted with his countrymen suggested he knew them on a personal level.
The last child added to our ranks was shown to be the last when the transparent, ghost-like skin turned opaque, stopping all but dedicated effort from seeing through.
Startled shouts echoed through the enclosed space, but they did not last long, and everyone soon settled back down. By then, the once spacious area of the rib cage had grown crowded, holding just short of five dozen children in total. With little to no room to walk or pace around, people sat down, huddling into groups of those they could understand. Having lost their stream of potential victims, Henry and George had no other choice than to sit down as well.
Despite meeting familiar faces, both Henry and George joined me and Shimazu, much to our chagrin.
“Must you place yourselves so close to us?” Shimazu asked.
“Where else do you want us to sit? Besides, it's not like the Russian minds,” Henry protested.
“But you do know others here, right? Wouldn’t you prefer to socialize with them?” I inquired.
“Yes, and no. While Jonathan and Carson may be old friends of mine, I see no reason to socialize with them beyond formalities. I have done plenty of that already and have no need to do so now. I would much rather socialize with you fine ladies,” George explained.
“She was referring to me,” Henry joked, punching the Brit in the shoulder.
I could see in his eyes that George wanted to return the gesture, perhaps take it up a notch with his claymore, but he held his temper. Instead, he trained his eyes on me to wait for my response.
I felt a lump form in my throat when I realized what he wanted, and the pressure increased when Henry started doing the same. It took a conscious effort not to stammer from the intimidation and the lack of something to say.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Shimazu answered in my stead.
“Flattery? A Montier does not flatter. I am just pointing out the truth!” he exclaimed.
The degree in which the three of us gagged varied, but it was a unanimous reaction. Henry exaggerated, hanging his tongue out in a fake gag. Shimazu’s eyes widened, and her thin eyebrows furrowed. My reaction was somewhere in between the two, and with the three of us combined, George realized what he had said.
For the first time since meeting him, his face turned red, and he had nothing more to say.
“While establishing connections between you was a desire of mine, I wished to ask the onna-musha-”
“Samurai,” Shimazu interrupted, glaring daggers at Henry as sharp as her sword. “Although the attempt to appear cultured is noted, you will refer to me as a samurai. Nothing less.”
“Of course,” Henry replied, the restrained laughter he started the conversation with gone. “I just wanted to ask why you are here. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but you, and a few others don’t exactly fit in here.”
So he’s having similar thoughts, I thought, looking over at Shimazu to tell her I had the same question.
She shrugged, “How can I hope to match the wisdom of the dragons? They requested that I be here, so here I am.”
“I think I already know the answer, but why are you the only Japanese here?” I piped up. “Japan is the second largest concentration of families outside England, isn’t it?”
“The families The Nest stationed in Japan have a unique relationship compared to those in Europe. We are more intermingled with those of Pangea and are often dragged into their wars. Because of that, there are hostilities among the families. My guess is that they do not want those rivalries interfering with the training,” Shimazu explained.
“So they think you're the best?” I guessed.
The girl responded with a sly smile, one she moved to expound upon when the horse came to a sliding halt, throwing many of those across the ribcage. I stayed seated, but there was nothing I could do when the bone gave out beneath me, dropping everyone below.
It took me a minute to gather myself and shake off the pain from falling, but once I did, I did not know what to make of the sight before me.
Dark ashy clouds hung in the air above us, and in the distance I could see the trunk of the gargantuan tree. A light breeze tickled my nose and kept me somewhat cool in the warmer air. An unfamiliar humidity clung to everything to make it sticky, and when compounded with the hot temperature, it suffocated me. The grass beneath my feet grew gray, and though I could not feel it with my toes beneath my boots, it crunched with every step.
When I listened beyond the groans and grunts of the other children picking themselves up, I could hear whispers on the wind, always just out of earshot.
I knew our destination was Arindoth, and I knew what I saw of Arindoth was but a small portion. Despite knowing these things, the location I found myself in made little sense. There was nothing for miles. Even the tree was a week’s journey by foot. To add to the confusion, I could not see the horse, despite it having just dropped us off.
“They weren’t planning to just drop us off here, were they?” George asked once he collected himself.
“Maybe the training is to make it somewhere recognizable from here,” Henry chuckled, though he silenced himself once he realized how possible his statement was.
Shimazu remained silent on the issue and instead took her bow and notched an arrow. Pointing the “yumi” into the sky, she let it fly, and it zipped toward the clouds.
“What the hell are you doing? That’s going to come back do-” George began to shout, but stopped when a lightning bolt struck the arrow, disintegrating it in an instant.
“We don’t have to climb,” Shimazu said.
“Then what do we do?” George replied.
“If you wish to know, listen well. I’d prefer not to repeat myself.”