Djinn Tamer - The Complete Bronze League Trilogy

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  As a result, Jackson’s fighting style became more erratic and aggressive, and without Briggs’s training and Asena’s natural edge in her Attack strength, he was confident he would have lost every bout.

  “You look like trash,” Laila said as Jackson handed her another envelope.

  “Yeah, well, such is the life of a tamer, I guess,” Jackson said absentmindedly. “What’ve you got for me today?”

  Laila gave a smirk. “I think you’ll be happy with this one.”

  Dodge, Asena, Dodge! Jackson commanded.

  Laila had mentioned he’d be happy about this fight, but after setting him up with so many patronizingly dull fights, he thought she was underestimating him on purpose. But this fight against a Brawlaroo had been quite the surprising skirmish, to say the least. It was all Asena could do to avoid its quick blows. Furthermore, it looked like this trainer had taken the same approach to DJP allocation as Jackson, focusing mostly on beefing up its Attack, which made every impact between the two potentially match-ending.

  Asena jumped aside just as the Brawlaroo jumped back on its tail and lashed out with its powerful legs where Asena has stood moments before. The fight had been neck-and-neck the whole time, and Jackson knew whoever landed the next hit would likely earn the KO and the win. As fast as Asena was, the Brawlaroo was almost as fast, even more agile, and had made the most of their close quarter encounters.

  To make matters worse, this tamer had also mastered the ability of using telepathy to issue his commands. This was the only other tamer he’d faced who had this ability, and as a result, Jackson had a much harder time with his own commands. So instead of attacking, Jackson found himself retreating every chance he got.

  Stay away! Jackson thought, clenching his jaw tight. Stay away!

  Asena prowled the perimeter of the fight and circled the Brawlaroo. Some of the spectators booed at Jackson’s unwillingness to take a chance and finish the match, but Jackson ignored them.

  You’re always going to have fans screaming at you to do something different, no matter what level you’re at, Briggs had told him over and over. Never listen. Stick to your strategy and do what you think is best. There’s no faster way to lose in this business than starting to let in suggestions from the peanut gallery. Remember: you’re in the ring and they’re not.

  Now! Fire Growl! Jackson commanded.

  The Brawlaroo saw Asena stooped and bounded toward her with incredible speed. It jumped and landed hard on its strong, spring-like legs, catapulting it into the air over Asena’s head: a do-or-die move.

  At the same moment, Asena threw back her head and let out a long, mournful howl. A twisting shot of fire sprang from between her fangs and blasted the Brawlaroo full-force, knocking it out of the air. It landed in a blackened, smoking heap and did not rise. KO. Its hit points dove from 15 down to zero.

  Jackson let out a huge sigh and slumped his shoulders. Rather than being elated, he was just grateful he’d survived another round. With the added pressure of the side bets, he couldn’t afford even a single mistake. But he couldn’t keep a smile off his face when he felt is watch vibrate and the display flash:

  ASENA LEVEL UP

  All around him, the crowd cheered but Jackson hardly noticed their applause. Asena ran to his side and wagged her tail. Jackson gave her a big hug. For a brief moment, the pride in his Djinn washed away his stress.

  “Good girl!” Jackson shouted over the noise of onlookers. “You did it!”

  Jackson looked up and caught sight of the tamer he’d just beaten, finally taking a minute to get a good look at him. The man wore a strange mask that looked like something out of a theatre production. He had on a long trench coat and a tall pair of army-style boots, but aside from the mask, nothing out of the ordinary. Laila had introduced him as Dorian, but Jackson had never seen him at the Underground before, let alone in a fight. He wasn’t surprised, though. In the time he spent at the Underground, he found that many tamers entered with disguises and false names — probably so their affiliation didn’t come back to haunt them in their real lives.

  The mysterious tamer returned his toasted Brawlaroo to its ring and walked across the sand to congratulate Jackson.

  “Nice fight, kid,” he said, extending his hand. The man spoke in a growling voice but seemed sincere. Jackson shook it.

  “Thanks,” Jackson said. He tried to pick out any features behind the mask but it covered the man’s face well. “Your Brawlaroo is quite the fighter — you almost had me! “

  The man shrugged. “Just a little side project I’ve been working on. He’s coming along nicely, though.”

  “Obviously, I can’t see its stats, but it looks like you focused a lot on its Attack.”

  “You noticed, eh?”

  “I know most newts put a lot of focus —”

  “On their Defense?”

  Jackson chuckled. “Yeah. And if that Brawlaroo’s just a side project, you know that real well, don’t you”

  “Do you mind if I chat with you in private for a moment?”

  Jackson looked around. Normally he’d ask Kay to at least weigh in on something like this, but with her gone, he only had his own instinct to go on.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said.

  “It won’t take long,” the man said in a voice that caught Jackson’s ear. His strange accent marked him as a native of Osmara, a large island in the middle of the Eastern Ocean. There were a few Osmarians working as ranch hands at Sato, but Jackson would have picked them out immediately if it had been one of them.

  As he followed the man to a quiet corner away from the fighting rings, he did his best to place why the man sounded so familiar.

  “You put on a pretty good show out there tonight,” the mysterious man said. “Some friends of mine are putting together a little tournament near here in a couple of weeks and we’ve got a couple of spots left to fill. Think you’d be interested?”

  Jackson was so busy trying to figure out where he’d heard the man’s voice before that he almost didn’t catch the question. “Wait, what? Like another Underground fight?”

  The man shook his head. “Nah, mate. This is the real deal — not a League fight, of course, but a sanctioned preseason tournament. I’ve been going around scouting out some fresh blood and thought you fit the bill.”

  Between the nagging feeling of not being able to place the voice and the sudden overwhelm at receiving an invitation to a legitimate Djinn tournament, Jackson could hardly speak. “Yeah! Of course! I uh…”

  “Speechless,” the man said. “I know. I’ve seen the look before.”

  “It’s not just that. It’s just…do I know you from somewhere?”

  The man flashed a toothy grin through the mouth opening on his mask. “I don’t think so.”

  The grin gave it away. Jackson’s mind went back to the countless times he’d seen it and heard that accent in post-match interviews on the holo. But it couldn’t be — not here, in the lowest level of Djinn fighting.

  “No way,” Jackson whispered. The man must have noticed the recognition in Jackson’s eyes because he took a step back and readjusted his mask. “You’re Vance freaking McAllister!”

  The man threw back his head and laughed. When he’d finished, he tipped his mask up, revealing the face of the world’s most famous Djinn Tamer — a man who’d not only beaten Cassius Briggs in his prime but stayed among the best of the best in the decades since, with no signs of slowing down.

  “Good eye, kid,” McAllister said. He reached into his trench coat and pulled a card with gold trim. He held it out but when Jackson reached for it, McAllister flicked it out of reach. “I wasn’t joking about a place at my tournament, but…I’ll need you to keep quiet about our little encounter here if you want that spot. We got ourselves a deal?”

  Rather than remaining tongue-tied, words started pouring out of Jackson’s mouth in rambling, incoherent stream. Vance McAllister laughed again and cut him off. “I’ll take that as a yes. But remember: not a w
ord about running into me here, got it?”

  Jackson nodded and Vance winked before pulling down his mask. He nodded to Asena. “That’s quite the Lyote you’ve got there. Keep raising her right, you might even make it into the Gold League one day. I’ll see you around.”

  With a swish of his trench coat, Vance McAllister turned and disappeared into the crowd. Jackson stared in the direction he’d gone for several moments afterward. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but he looked down at the invite in his hand and knew he couldn’t be dreaming. If he was dreaming, the air wouldn’t smell like vape clouds and steaming, hot garbage.

  What was going on here? Cassius Briggs and Vance McAllister were just at the same fight together, and only Jackson knew about it. It’s as if he’d just entered his own wildest dream.

  “Hey, kid!” A voice brought Jackson back to reality.

  Laila approached them with one of her meathead bouncers at her side. A shock of fear ran through Jackson. This was it: she’d found out about his side bets and he was going to be beaten to a pulp.

  Sensing Jackson’s sudden spike in adrenaline, Asena growled at the pink-haired woman. Laila countered with a scowl.

  “Not a bad fight tonight,” Laila said. “That Dorian guy and his Brawlaroo have been mopping the floor with quite a few of the newts around this place.”

  “Does that mean you’ll match me up with a fight against Tessa Green?” Jackson asked. Even if no one knew it, he’d just beaten Vance McAllister and wanted a shot at Fiona. Somebody needed to knock her down a few pegs and he was just the tamer to do it.

  But Laila shook her head. “Nah, kid, but I’ve got another proposition for you — one that’ll make it so you don’t have to do any more side betting with your buddy, Tak.”

  Jackson’s heart barreled into his throat. “I don’t know what —”

  Laila waved her hand. “Cut the crap kid — I’ve known about it for weeks. It’s all good — that’s how most of these dirtbags around here make their dough. As long as you’re not betting against yourself and throwing fights, I ain’t got a problem.”

  “So…you’re not going to throw me out?” Jackson asked in a tentative voice. He didn’t know how he would explain to Briggs why he couldn’t fight in the Underground anymore without telling him the truth.

  “Of course not,” Laila said. “I told you — I’ve got a sweet deal for you. How about a rematch with Drill? He thinks his old goat can take on your Lyote and he’s willing to drop eight grand to prove it.”

  Jackson’s jaw dropped. This was exactly the kind of match he’d been hoping for from day one, but he couldn’t but feel a distant nagging at the back of his head.

  Fittingly enough, the voice was that of Kay’s. Were she there, she’d tell him he’d be an idiot to take something like this on. She’d go on about how hard he’d worked for all his money and that it wasn’t worth throwing away on some gamble. She’d also say that if something seemed too good to be true, it’s because it was.

  On the flip side, Jackson had been running the numbers, and no matter how much he’d win on those standard matches, he wasn’t going to make it without taking a big risk like this.

  “Whaddya say, kid?” Laila asked.

  This was his do-or-die moment.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “That’s what I like to hear!” Laila said. “You’ll have to hurry, though. I’ve got you up next and we still need to handle the…transaction,” she finished with a wink.

  The way she said that last word sent a rush of concern down his body, but he pushed it from his mind. He needed to focus on winning the match so he could save the house. That idiot Drill wouldn’t know what hit him.

  At the betting table, Jackson tapped a few projected buttons from his holo-watch screen and watched as his entire summer savings flashed into the stored account. He’d been depositing it at the bank in increments and wondered what they would think when it returned twofold. But that was a problem for later.

  “You made a smart move, kid,” Laila said as soon the money made it into her holding pool. She flipped the tablet around to show Jackson it was all there and to also show him Drill’s matching contribution. “This is easy money — your buddy Tak even put down ten grand on the fight. I just need you to sign and we’re official.”

  Using his finger as a pen, Jackson scribbled his initials on the touchscreen. In spite of Laila’s words, he felt a flush of nervousness at the sight of all his money sitting in someone else’s hands. Jackson looked at Asena, who gave him a reassuring bark.

  “Head over to ring six,” Laila said, snapping the tablet screen cover shut. She smiled at him, lips peeling back to show her dyed teeth. “This is gonna be a good fight. I can feel it.”

  Jackson turned around to find Briggs standing there. Did the man know he’d just finished putting down a ridiculous bet?

  “Big fight coming up, huh?” Briggs said, his face unreadable. He usually didn’t talk to Jackson until the night’s fighting was completely over.

  “Yeah,” Jackson said, trying not to be intimidated by his trainer. “Drill wanted to have a rematch. He’s in for a surprise.”

  Briggs studied him for a long moment beneath his hooded eyes. At last, he gave a slight nod. “Good luck. You should have asked me — I would have told you not to take the fight. Drill is in tight with Laila.”

  “It’s just another match,” Jackson said. Didn’t anyone think he was capable of making a decision on his own? “I’ve got it handled.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Briggs said, a solemn look etched in his face.

  As soon as he left, Jackson frowned. He wasn’t sure how much more of this pressure he could take. But there was no time to dwell on that feeling. It was almost time for his match and he had to get to ring six.

  The Underground featured what Laila called four “headliner” events at the top of each hour. When the headliners started, all other matches were put on hold and everyone gathered in a central ring. Most of the time, the headliner matches were the largest bets of the night — the type of fights Fiona received as Tessa Green and some of Laila’s other favorite tamers.

  Jackson was bound and determined not only to beat Drill, but to completely humiliate him. With the spotlight on Asena, he promised himself he’d prove to Laila he deserved to be in the spotlight more often.

  The crowd parted as Jackson approached, a few of the smaller bettors that followed his fights shouting encouragement. Jackson focused straight ahead on the ring before him, fighting to settle his pounding heart. Nervousness only made it harder to communicate with Asena and he didn’t want to have any mess-ups now that he was getting a shot.

  “And now, for our third headliner fight of the night!” Laila paused, allowing the crowd’s excitement to reach its zenith. “We’ve got Drill, an Underground veteran, facing off against the up-and-comer Jackson Hunt!”

  The roar of the spectators felt like an ocean wave that Jackson had just been sucked under. Although there were only a few hundred people in attendance, at such close quarters, their presence was stifling. Some cheered for him — quite a few booed. Other just seemed content making as much noise as possible.

  “This fight features two Djinn of equal levels: a Level 9 Lyote and a Level 9 Gruffoat,” Laila continued. “On the count of three, both tamers will release their Djinn.”

  “One!”

  The crowd shouted along with Laila.

  “Two!”

  Jackson clenched his left hand.

  “Three!”

  Asena leaped into the middle of the ring from Jackson’s side. Drill’s Gruffoat materialized in an aura of pale green from the tamer’s ring, directly in front of Asena.

  Jackson felt his stomach twist even tighter. Drill’s Gruffoat looked…different.

  Where before, its mossy wool was on display for all to see, now it was covered in what looked like armored plates and a helmet.

  “Hey!” Jackson shou
ted, trying to get Laila’s attention. He’d never agreed to a fight like this — he didn’t even own armor for Asena!

  Laila looked at Jackson and gave him a sideways grin. At that moment, Jackson knew he’d been had.

  “One thing I forgot to mention!” Laila shouted into the amplifier. “This will be an armored fight! Both contestants have the right to equip their Djinn before the match begins.”

  “I don’t have any armor!” Jackson screamed over the crowd. If Laila heard him, she gave no indication.

  Jackson walked into the middle of the ring and pointed at Drill. “What the hell is this? No one told me this was an armored fight!”

  Drill shrugged his massive shoulders, arms folded, a smug look on his face. “You read the terms, didn’t you?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Jackson shouted.

  Laila joined him in the center of the ring and pulled up a projected screen. “This looks like your signature to me, kid,” she said. “Didn’t you read the terms?”

  Up above, in small print, Jackson saw a number of bullet points. He thought he might throw up. In his haste to secure the fight, he hadn’t even looked at anything on the screen aside from the bet amount.

  “There you go!” Laila said, snapping her tablet shut. The screen disappeared from in front of Jackson’s face, along with what could very well have been the last time he’d see all the savings he and Asena had worked to the bone for.

  Jackson wanted to yell at Laila — to sic Asena on her and have her tear her to pieces, but he couldn’t get even a word out — not even telepathically. He just looked between her, Drill and the armored Gruffoat, dumbstruck.

  “You can always forfeit.” Laila suggested, as if that would help. Her snide comment released Jackson’s shock and he clenched his fists. Asena let loose a feral growl.

  “Screw you,” Jackson said. “Let’s do this!”

  Across the ring, Drill laughed. “I’m gonna smear that Lyote of yours into the dirt, kid!”