Jackson clenched his left hand tight, feeling the pressure of the Djinn ring as it dug into his finger. He hunched over the bench like a drunk and wouldn’t have been surprised if he barfed all over the train compartment like one. He took another shuddering breath and the train started to slow. Looking outside, the blurred images sharpened into parks and tall buildings — much taller than those in Tyle. They’d arrived in Cormick. Jackson felt Kay’s hand on his shoulder.
“We’re here,” he heard her say.
“Yeah,” Jackson managed to say. “Hey, Kay…thanks for everything. No matter what happens.”
Kay nodded and flashed one of her shy smiles. “No matter what.”
The train came to a stop and somehow Jackson lurched to his feet. He felt like his head was wrapped in a bubble as he stepped onto the station: his ears felt muffled, his feet weightless and his vision swam if he focused on one spot more than a few seconds.
Jackson nodded, as if assuring himself that everything would be okay, but he didn’t feel much better. He gathered his things and tried to make sure he didn’t leave anything in the compartment. In the process, a bolt of realization struck him and he groaned.
“I left the bill of health at my house!” Jackson said, digging into his pockets. “It must have been in my other pair of pants!”
“Calm down,” Kay said. “You had to submit everything online, right? I’m pretty sure they have a copy — I bet you won’t even need the printed one.”
Jackson hoped she was right, but the forgotten document only added to the sickness whirling in his stomach. He’d slept like crap, tossing and turning all night, plagued by vivid half-dreams of his grandma coming into his room and tearing the Djinn ring from the necklace around his neck, among other equally stressful variations. It was only a matter of time before he realized something else he’d forgotten to pack. The unhappy grumbling in his already-upset stomach reminded Jackson, and although he was starving, his nerves wouldn’t allow him to eat anything.
After a few minutes, the train door hissed shut and the low whir of magnetic energy gathered as it prepared to leave the stop. Jackson watched it pull away and felt his last chance to turn back slip away with it. In some ways it was a comforting feeling. Although Jackson still felt like there was a Gorriloot sitting on his chest. The train’s exit left only one option to take: the McAllister Invitational.
Following the directions on their GPS, Jackson and Kay skirted around the outside of the small city and came to a large, open community park. A handful of banners hanging on the chain-link fences told them they’d found the right place, and a steady stream of eager young trainers and their supporters entered the gates.
Jackson scanned the area and felt a little bit disappointed. In his head, he’d imagined the invitational to be in a large stadium with thousands of fans crowding the seats. What he saw was a large grass amphitheater with rows of cement seats surrounding a fighting area marked off by paint and a few dozen pop-up shade tents. If the ratio stayed the same, there looked to be almost as many competitors as spectators — not exactly the roaring crowds he’d envisioned.
“This looks like a glorified track meet,” Kay said, giving voice to Jackson’s thoughts. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of scam? You didn’t have to pay to enter, did you?”
Jackson ignored the jibe. “Takes notes and pictures,” he said. “This event will go down in league history as the place where my career began.”
Kay rolled her eyes. “It’s good to see you got a little bit of confidence back. You might want to save it until you actually make it through registration, though.”
The twisting sensation returned to the pit of Jackson’s stomach. All of his false bravado evaporated with it. “Why’d you have to remind me?”
“I’m just trying to keep you humble,” Kay shrugged. “You went from zero-to-asshole pretty quickly there.”
Jackson didn’t know if he’d ever felt more nervous than he did waiting in the registration line. Sure, he’d registered for the Underground matches countless times at this point, but this was a legit tournament. Plus, there was still a part of him that felt this was a big mistake. By the time it was his turn at the registration desk, sweat marks ringed the armpits of his shirt and his clammy hands trembled.
“Name?” The twenty-something woman sitting in the camp chair didn’t even look up from her tablet.
“Uh, yeah, I’m here for the tournament?” Jackson said, oblivious to what she’d asked.
This time she looked up and gave Jackson a “no kidding” look.
“Yeah,” she said. “What’s your name?”
“Oh! Jackson Hunt — sorry I just —”
“Your Djinn is a Lyote named…Asena?” Had Jackson not been so nervous he would have realized the woman couldn’t have cared less if he’d shown up and declared he would be fighting the other tamers’ Djinn himself.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Jackson said. His throat felt tight and he clenched his hands to stop the shaking. Luckily, the woman didn’t look up.
“Great.” The woman’s tone gave no suggestion that anything Jackson had said was great but, in the moment, he could have shouted for joy and kissed her. “You’re fighting at one o’clock today — you can find the bracket online or posted over there. Be ready fifteen minutes ahead of time in the bullpen with your Djinn in its ring.”
Jackson remained rooted to the spot, hardly believing his ears. He vaguely felt Kay tugging on his arm and hissing in his ear. The woman looked up with the same bored expression on her face.
“Is there something else you need?”
“No, we’re great thanks!” Kay said, pulling Jackson so hard he almost tripped and fell. “Thanks!”
Kay didn’t let go of Jackson’s arm until they were well out of sight of the registration line and away from any other tamers. “Will you calm the hell down?” she said. “You acted like you were trying to smuggle synths!”
“I’m tripping out, okay?” Jackson said. Without noticing, he’d started hyperventilating. “This is nuts! What the hell — Ow!”
As bad as it hurt, Kay’s punch brought Jackson back to the ground. He glared at her and rubbed his arm.
“Feel better?” she asked, flashing him a syrupy smile.
“I —” Jackson stopped and let out a long sigh. “Yeah. Thanks — I needed that.”
They made their way across the lawn toward the bulletin board displaying the tournament’s matchups. Jackson wanted to let Asena out to enjoy the day, but the numerous “No competing Djinn allowed free of their rings outside of the arena” signs deterred him. He hoped she wouldn’t be too mad when she finally got some fresh air — according to the invitational rules, they would only have a thirty minute warm-up before their fight.
“There you are,” Kay said, pointing to the bracket on the projected screen.
Jackson read his name and the name of his opponent — a Travis Terrafino and a Shellar, which was a Water-Elemental Djinn. The thirty-two competitors were split into a red or blue group on opposite sides of the bracket. The tournament structure was single elimination, meaning they would go from thirty-two, to sixteen, to eight, to four and then the final two facing off in the championship. Matches were timed to end at exactly ten minutes with winners selected by a combination score of damage dealt to opponent and overall tamer ability. A KO or serious injury ended the battle immediately regardless of time remaining.
Jackson noticed that he was in the blue group, and after scanning the names, he finally found Fiona and Appleby, both of whom were in the red group. He glanced at his watch and found there was still over two hours to go until his match.
“Do you want to get something to eat?” Kay asked. “The last thing you need to do is sit here and freak out until one.”
Although Jackson still didn’t feel like eating, he nodded and followed Kay to a semi-circle of food trucks on the edge of the park. While Kay double-fisted cotton candy and a churro, Jackson nibbled at the edge of a burrit
o. After half an hour, he gave up and tossed it in the trash, settling on a bottle of water. Luckily, he’d fed Asena plenty earlier that morning. Jackson doubted she would have any qualms about wolfing down a meal, but he didn’t want her going into the ring after gorging — the Lyote had a never-ending appetite.
The sun beat down overhead with no clouds in sight. Jackson found some small comfort in that — the hot day would augment Asena’s Fire attacks, even if it made for blazing waiting conditions. With nothing else to do, he and Kay found a shady spot under a tree. Time crawled by.
An excruciating hour passed and Jackson felt more miserable with each passing moment. He couldn’t see the other tamers’s Djinn but he imagined they had powerful monsters that would knock him out of the competition first thing. He was particularly worried about his opponent. Although Terrafino’s Shellar Djinn would be slow on land, it still had an Elemental advantage over Asena. He hoped that just because the tournament’s starting level cap was 12 and under that all of the competing Djinn weren’t near the top level like his was. It would be a small advantage, but Jackson wanted whatever he could get.
So far, he hadn’t seen any sign of Fiona or Appleby. Fiona’s first fight wasn’t until two, but Appleby fought at twelve-thirty.
For the dozenth time, he missed Briggs’s salty yet reassuring presence. The old man had a gruff demeanor, to be sure, but it somehow put Jackson at ease and made his worries seem trivial in the minutes before a battle. He could tell Kay was trying to copy it, but the efforts only left him more agitated and anxious, even if she meant well.
A familiar figure spotted them while crossing the lawn and waved. Jackson felt a small smile cross his face as Appleby walked over to them. If he was nervous, he covered it completely beneath his naturally cheerful disposition.
“Hey guys!” he said.
“Hey,” Jackson said as cheerfully as he could, though he wasn’t sure if that came across.
“Yeah, I’m nervous too,” Appleby said, noting Jackson’s tone. “Just getting ready to head to the bullpen!” Appleby said. His short, wavy hair did little to hide a sheen of sweat on his brow and round cheeks, but Jackson thought it was probably from the heat rather than nerves. Appleby was a pretty round dude, but if any of his opponents underestimated his taming skills because of it, Jackson knew they wouldn’t get any mercy.
“Good luck,” Jackson said. “I’d come watch but I’ve got to start warming up soon.”
“No worries!” Appleby said, still smiling. “I’ll come watch you after my match!”
As he walked away, Jackson couldn’t help but be envious of his newfound friend. “It’s like he doesn’t even care!” he told Kay.
“He’s just got less of a reason to win,” Kay said. “But you could still probably take note and chill out a little.”
Jackson still had a half hour before he could start warming up, but he refused to go watch any of the battles until it was his turn to fight. He hoped being in the ring again for the first time in a couple of weeks would help settle things down. On the flip side, he knew watching the battles ahead of him would only make him more tense, even if it did help give him some extra insight into how the others fought.
Each time the announcer called for the next two contestants over the loudspeaker, Jackson checked the fight order, even though he knew exactly who was ahead of him. The next thirty minutes passed like thirty days.
“Jackson Hunt, please report to the check-in station to prepare for your match.”
A jolt of adrenaline shot through Jackson and he abandoned his pacing to make a beeline for the check-in tent. Kay jogged to catch up even though Djinn rehabbers were only allowed on the sideline and not ringside like the Underground fights.
“You got this,” Kay said, raising her fist.
Jackson bumped it and nodded. Like it or not, the time had come.
As soon as Jackson let Asena out of her ring to warm up, he felt immense relief. The Lyote gave a happy bark and rushed toward her tamer, showering his hands and face in wet kisses.
“All right, all right,” Jackson said as he laughed and fought to hold the Lyote back. “That’s enough — we’ve got our first match coming up girl, it’s time to get ready!”
Barking again, Asena spun in circles and wagged her tail. A tournament official pointed Jackson to a field behind the arena marked off for competitors to warm up. Asena followed him eagerly. When he reached the roped-off area, Jackson found himself alone. Apparently, Travis Terrafino and his Shellar were either already ready to go or the tournament had a separate area for each upcoming contestant — probably the latter.
Jackson started by throwing a ball for Asena to fetch which got her heart rate up and the blood flowing. Next, he practiced a series of basic mind commands still using the ball. In random order, he told Asena to sit, stay, fetch, drop the ball mid-run and a number of other activities designed as much to clear his head as it was to get Asena warmed up. There were moments when Jackson swore Asena could anticipate his commands a split second before he gave them.
Going through their pre-battle maneuvers reminded Jackson of his short stint training with Cassius Briggs. Most of the Underground tamers never exercised their Djinn before a match, but it was one of the many things Briggs demanded Jackson and Asena do.
“It’s just as much to get you ready as her,” he’d said. When Jackson protested and pointed to all the other Underground fighters as proof, Briggs had shot him a withering look. “If you want to be a champion, you train, practice and fight like a champion. This is what champions do. If you’re looking to be a loser, follow their example and I can stop wasting my time.”
A small part of Jackson hoped Briggs would be there — just so he could show the old man that his lessons hadn’t gone to waste.
Unlike the time spent under the tree, Jackson felt like they’d hardly started warming up when another tournament official summoned him to the bullpen. After one last hug, Jackson returned Asena to her ring per tournament protocol and followed the man to a small bench behind a barricade overlooking the ring.
The guy who Jackson assumed was Travis Terrafino was already in the bullpen. He had a scowl etched into his face and he stared straight ahead, watching the end of the current battle. It featured a Falcuab and Scorbble both down to their last few hit points, struggling to get in one last shot before the buzzer rang.
BZZT!
Too late. The two Djinn fell apart at the sound and their tamers returned them to their rings in a flash of light. If there was one exciting thing Jackson learned from that brief moment, it was that neither of those contestants fought using their Bond — he already had an edge, or so he hoped.
Overhead, a scoreboard broke down each Djinn’s successful attacks and the resulting damage. The Scorbble held a slight advantage over the Falcuab, but when the judges scored came in, the tamer of the Falcuab edged ahead.
“And Felicity Alexander is the winner!” The over-enthusiastic announcer shouted.
A round of applause followed and Felicity Alexander grinned and waved at who Jackson assumed was her family before crossing the ring to shake the hand of her opponent. Both tamers passed by the judges’s tables and shook hands with each of the five people sitting there. In a jolt of surprise, Jackson recognized Vance McAllister himself in the middle of the table. Without his mask and unassuming clothes, he looked just like the rugged, devil-may-care tamer known throughout the country.
“Hey, Jackson, good luck!”
Jackson heard Appleby’s voice and turned to see his friend emerging from the Djinn medic tent, beaming.
“I won!” he shouted over the crowd.
“Hey!”
Kay’s voice pulled Jackson’s attention in the other direction before he could congratulate Appleby. She leaned against the sideline rail and shot him a wink. “You’ve got this, all right?”
Jackson nodded, finding himself unable to speak. He looked over at Terrafino, who finally stood and acknowledged Jackson’s existence
for the first time.
“Good luck,” the opposing tamer said.
“Yeah,” Jackson replied. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth with every word. “You too.”
“And up next, a thrilling match between Jackson Hunt battling with his Lyote, Asena, and Travis Terrafino and his Shellar, Dexter!”
The small crowd cheered and Jackson thought he could hear Kay whistle. He focused on the ground in front of him. For some reason, each step felt like walking on a cloud. Blood pounded in his ears, canceling out the scattered clapping that had already faded. Jackson stepped into the center of the ring where a referee and Terrafino waited.
“One Djinn each, ten minute time limit,” the referee said, looking at each tamer to confirm he’d heard. He must have been used to bigger tournaments, given how loud he talked. “First serious injury or KO ends the match. Understood?”
Jackson and his opponent nodded.
“Good,” the ref said. “Take your places on the opposite ends of the ring. The battle begins on my count!”
Jackson’s heart thundered. He swallowed hard then shook out his trembling left hand.
“Tamers, summon your Djinn on three! One! Two! …THREE!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fire Growl!
Asena opened her jaws wide and summoned a burst of fire. Jackson fought back the urge to cheer as the flames hit the Shellar full-on — even if it was a Water-Elemental, it would still be a direct hit.
But when the flames cleared, all that could be seen of the Djinn was its blackened shell. The Shellar’s soft legs and head had withdrawn inside, protecting it from most of the damage. Jackson glanced at his battle display projection: less than 10 damage dealt.
At the same moment, the Shellar started spinning and launched itself at Asena. The Lyote jumped out of the way just in time…and spun around just as the turtle boomeranged back. Asena’s head snapped back as the spinning shell struck her beneath the chin and knocked her aside.
Djinn Tamer - The Complete Bronze League Trilogy Page 21