Djinn Tamer - The Complete Bronze League Trilogy

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  The Serpoison twisted and buffeted Midnight, but the Hurricanther refused to let go. Jackson glanced at Briggs and Vance, both of which focused entirely on the two battling Djinn, brows furrowed, mumbling under their breath. At last, the Serpoison shook itself free and flung Midnight across the sparring room. The Hurricanther landed on its feet and the two Djinn stared each other down, both injured but still ready for more.

  Vance threw back his head and laughed with pure joy. “I knew I’d get it out of ya, Briggsy! Now let’s finish this!”

  The Serposion dove into the ground once more, but instead of burrowing toward Midnight, the Djinn rose and fell as if it were swimming through the earth. Jackson saw Briggs starting at the motions of Vance’s Djinn, as if timing something. Right before the Serpoison surfaced before Midnight, the Hurricanther let out another piercing scream. A rolling mess of black clouds formed in a ten-yard radius over the Djinn and a torrential downpour burst free. Just as the Serpoison’s head broke through, the clouds rumbled and a flash of blinding lighting smote Vance’s Djinn on the head. It collapsed like it was nothing more than a stuffed sock and lay still.

  Jackson expected Vance to be angry at the loss. But the famous tamer was still grinning ear to ear when he recalled his Serpoison into healing stasis. In the back of his mind, Jackson had always wondered if all the talk about Vance’s passion for taming was nothing more than publicity, but seeing it in-person, there was no denying Vance lived for Djinn battling.

  Briggs, on the other hand, looked as stoic as ever. He gave a respectful nod to Midnight and then returned the Hurricanther to his ring as well. “Good fight, Vance.”

  “Yeah, I won’t go so easy on you next time, Briggsy!” Vance said. He winked at Jackson. “I guess there’s still a thing or two this old bugger can teach ya, kid!”

  In spite of his nerves at being in the presence of the famous Vance McAllister, Jackson grinned. He was proud of Briggs for winning the match, and proud to call him his coach, no matter how unorthodox his training regimen might be. Behind Vance, Fiona smiled at Jackson and ran a finger across her throat. At first, Jackson was a little shocked. Fiona hadn’t been particularly aggressive or overly-competitive in camp up until this point. But when he looked at the smile on her face, he could tell she was half-joking; that she was playing it up given their circumstance. Jackson smiled and returned the gesture, sticking his tongue out as he did. Fiona gave a silent chuckle before waving him away. Sure, the intensity was exaggerated, but the sentiment was still there.

  The message was clear: the next time they faced each other, she would be just as ready to demolish him as she had during the invitational.

  When they exited the sparring gum, Jackson could hardly contain his enthusiasm. “That was amazing! I can’t believe I just saw Cassius Briggs beat Vance McAllister in person!”

  “Don’t make it sound like it’s such a rarity,” Briggs mumbled. “It used to happen more than the young fans these days think. Besides, like he said, he wasn’t throwing everything he had at me.”

  Jackson stopped in his tracks, confused. “What do you mean? That looked like an all-out battle to me!”

  Briggs shook his head. “That Djinn was about ten levels below Midnight — it’s one of his newer projects, I’d guess. And he didn’t even use any venom attacks. No, Vance just wanted to put on a little show for you and Fiona, and to goad me into thinking I can still go toe to toe with him. Trust me — if there’d been a big audience, he wouldn’t have used that Serpoison.”

  “But…” Jackson trailed off. Briggs had sucked all of the joy out of the victory. “A win’s a win! You still beat him.”

  Briggs stopped to look at Jackson with his wild eyes. “I thought you would have figured out there’s a big difference between sparring and fighting under the stadium lights,” Briggs said. “Practice is all well and good, but if you don’t know how to flip on the switch when it’s go time, you won’t make it with the big boys and girls. Vance is good — one of the best tamers I’ve ever seen. He didn’t flip the switch in there — that was his practice mode.”

  Jackson looked back at the sparring room, trying to comprehend what Briggs had just told him. That had been Vance McAllister at half-speed? And if that was the case, what was Fiona going to battle like when she finished training camp with him?

  “But, right now, fighting other tamers isn’t our concern,” Briggs continued. “You’ve got to figure out a way to get that damned Magglecaw to stop being a practical joker and get that Lyote of yours to stop worrying about impressing you so much. And there’s only one way to do it.”

  “I know, I know,” Jackson said. “More practice.”

  Briggs gave a curt nod. “Go get your Djinn healed up. There’s one more exercise I want to run through with the three of you tonight while we’ve still got free time from camp staff.”

  Jackson groaned and looked up at the evening sun dipping halfway down the tall pines surrounding the Granite Region Camp. He had a day and a half to figure things out before the big maze test. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Friday morning came and Jackson woke with a sense of trepidation, but missing his regular gut-wrenching nervousness. He wasn’t sure why — he knew at the end of the day, dozens of tamers would be getting ready to go home. Scrappy and Asena had progressed a bit, too, but that wasn’t it, either. He still didn’t think he’d hold up in a two-on-two battle.

  No, he was just tired of worrying and beating himself up.

  After a quick shower, Jackson threw on his favorite blue hoodie and cap. He laced up his work boots — a carryover from his job at Sato — and walked downstairs for breakfast. Several other tamers were already gathered. Some, like Lucia, chatted like maniacs trying to cover their nerves, and others, like Moto Rine, Fiona, and Hayden, brooded alone in their respective corners. Akamu wasn’t anywhere to be a seen, a fact that gave Jackson even greater relief.

  “You ready for today?” Appleby asked, tossing Jackson an apple and a protein shake. They ate very well at camp but the food was also a tad healthier than Jackson would have preferred. Jackson caught the items and shrugged.

  “Ready or not?”

  Appleby nodded. He already had a sheen of nervous sweat on his brow and he gave a small, queasy grin. “Either way, thanks for your help with everything.”

  “I didn’t do much but I hope it helps,” Jackson said. “Don’t worry — you’ve got a great Bond with Wacky. You’ll be fine.”

  After a few more tense minutes in the commons, the rest of the Barrack, including Akamu, made it downstairs. Coach Vanova showed up soon after, and they followed her across the grounds to the fieldhouse located at the center of training camp.

  Throughout his first few weeks of camp, Jackson had seen the interior of the building in a variety of configurations — weight gym, track, obstacle course, sparring grounds, and more. He’d been told that the entire floor lowered into the ground and had a revolving track of layouts that could be swapped depending on the need.

  When they stepped through the doors that morning, however, the setup of the fieldhouse blew Jackson’s mind.

  Ten-foot walls surrounded the outside perimeter of what had been the turf field. Rising up in the middle of it all, Jackson saw a small tower connected to a cable car that ran to one of the walls. Jackson obviously couldn’t see what lay within the the walls, but a series of creaks, splashes, booms, and explosions promised a whole series of challenge for the tamers. Vanova brought them over to one side of the building where an open space remained with a number of folding chairs.

  The tamers from a couple of other barracks were there as well. Jackson glanced over them — mostly young hopefuls like himself with worried or hardened expressions on their faces, although he saw a few older individuals, people in their thirties, forties, and even fifties, who were still in the running for a spot on the roster.

  “Right, then.”

  The tan-suited figure of the Bronze League DB
L Commissioner Walton Belmont sprouted up in front of them. “We are now well into training camp and are beginning to see the rankings settle. However, there are always a few dark horses nobody ever counts on. If you think you may be that tamer, then you’re in luck. Half the purpose of these weekly assessments is to determine which tamers we carry with us on our regular season roster for the Bronze League of the Granite Region. But we don’t just determine these spots based on pure battle talent alone. This week is such a test.”

  He took a step away from a holo-projector on the ground as it flared to life. Drone footage showed the fieldhouse maze from above, although it was blurred out to prevent giving away any of the details that might lie within. An automated woman’s voice began narrating as the camera panned.

  “Welcome to the second week of training camp. The maze you see is designed to test the communication skills of tamer and Djinn, to assess how well a tamer and his team can handle problem solving, how well they can creatively think in the moment, and how quickly a Djinn responds to its tamer’s commands. Each of you will be tested individually. Your Djinn will be placed in random positions in the maze and must find one another to complete the challenge. Obstacles and puzzles are placed within the maze to further test tamers and their Djinn. Tamers will be taken via elevator to a tower in the middle of the maze to direct their Djinn. This contest will be scored — the faster the maze is complete, the more points a tamer will receive. Good luck!”

  The AI’s cheerful voice hardly did anything to make Jackson feel better about the upcoming challenge. She made it sound like a walk in the park, but he knew it would be anything but. Before he could think too much about it, however, one of the camp aides stood up next to Mr. Belmont and began speaking in a raised voice.

  “All right, tamers, listen up! Your names have been entered into a drawing simulation. We will randomly select tamers and their Djinn to complete the maze. While you wait for your turn, you will remain within the fieldhouse. To keep things fair, there are no screens that tamers can access to watch previous entrants’s work at the maze. Several simulations within the maze will also randomly reset after each test. Upon completion, tamers will leave the fieldhouse. Communication between tamers who have completed the course and those still waiting is forbidden and will result in a ten-minute penalty. Wireless holo is also blocked during the duration of the event to discourage any cheating. Now, let’s get the first name!”

  The camp aide tapped his holo-watch a couple of times and the projector showed a wheel with everyone’s trainer IDs. The wheel completed the circle a couple of times and finally landed on a number. The number glowed and the tamer’s name appeared.

  “Raz Khatri — you’re up!” the camp aide said in the same loud voice. “Please proceed to the elevator lift. The rest of you, have a seat.”

  Jackson watched the tamer as he rose in the elevator and was carried across the fieldhouse ceiling in the cable car. As soon as the tamer stepped into the watchtower, he disappeared from from view. The windows were tinted so that no one could see in.

  With nothing else to do, Jackson settled down with Appleby and began guessing at the types of challenges that might lie within the maze. Although Jackson wasn’t timing, it seemed like the first tamer didn’t take long to complete the challenge. A horn sounded and a light flashed atop the tower about twelve minutes later. Once more, the camp aide went to the front of the group of tamers and opened the lottery wheel to select another participant.

  One by one, the room started to empty. After the fourth tamer, Moto Rine was selected, followed by Hayden at number fourteen. Later on, Fiona and then Miguel went as well. The tamers from the barrack naturally separated themselves into groups — minus Akamu for Barrack 4, who sat alone on the edge of the field — and traded ideas about what awaited them.

  “It can’t be too bad,” Tak said when the horn sounded announcing Miguel had complete the course. “I mean, Miguel, isn’t anything spectacular and he completed the challenge in like twelve minutes.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t know how that stacks up against everyone else,” Appleby said.

  Tak rolled his eyes. “Just because they aren’t posting the times doesn’t mean we can’t know. Unlike you scrubs, I’ve been keeping track.” He tapped the screen of his holo-watch a couple of times and a spreadsheet appeared before them. It showed every tamer who had already completed the maze challenge and their times, ranked in order from fastest to slowest.

  “You can’t do that!” Lucia hissed. She stepped in front of Tak and glanced around, as if to hide his projection from any of the camp staff who might have been watching.

  “Why not?” Tak asked. “Nobody said it was against the rules!”

  Although Jackson felt they were definitely wading through a gray area, he couldn’t help but study the names. After some quick math on his own holo-watch, he determined the average time for the tamers so far was about twelve minutes. Looking over the names and comparing the tamers to the camp ranking board, the numbers were also skewed. A couple of the camp’s best tamers had already gone through the challenge. Jackson wondered if eleven minutes would be good enough by the time everything was said and done.

  He didn’t have to think long. As soon as the horn sounded on the tamer following Miguel, the announcer spun the wheel. Jackson felt gripped by adrenaline and nerves when he saw his number flash on the screen.

  “Jackson Hunt, you’re up!”

  Several of the tamers from Barrack 4 muttered good luck. Appleby gave Jackson a fist bump and Fiona took the time to stand and give him her best wishes as well. It felt odd to hear her tell him good luck, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He noticed the dark circles around her eyes and Fiona’s gaunt expression and wondered just how hard Vance was pushing her behind the scenes.

  Briggs surprised Jackson at the elevator lift. He gave his student a long look up and down and then nodded. “You ready for this, kid?”

  Jackson managed to respond with what he hoped wasn’t too much of an unconvincing yes.

  “Just stay calm and focused,” Briggs said. “I haven’t had a look at the course either, but don’t rush things. If you panic or start going too hard and too fast, you’re going to cause your Djinn to mess up. Got it?”

  Jackson just nodded this time. Briggs slapped him on the back. “Good luck!”

  Jackson stepped inside the elevator and the doors closed right behind him. The lift was small enough he would have barely been able to sit down, and the absurd thought crossed his mind that he really didn’t want to be stuck in the elevator. Moments later, the lift finished its ascent and then gave a slight jerk as it changed from a vertical direction to a horizontal one. A soft hiss of pressurized air and a soft electrical whirr sounded then the doors opened to reveal the observation deck on top of the tower.

  The room was about ten square feet and had a panel on one side. A circular cut of glass extended all the way around, giving a three hundred and sixty degree view of the room. Jackson only got a quick glimpse outside before the glass blacked out. He stepped off of the elevator and the door hissed shut behind him,

  “Welcome, tamer,” an automated voice said. “Please place your two Djinn rings in the console slots to begin the challenge. Once your rings are placed in the console, press the green button. Your Djinn will be released from stasis into the maze below and returned to you upon the completion of the challenge. Your communication with your Djinn will be limited throughout the course — telepathic communication is advised. Please return your Djinn to the tower when finished. Good luck!”

  Once again, the well wishes of the automated woman made Jackson feel anything but lucky. He paused and then took off both his rings, placing them in the slots of the console. A small glass cover slid over both of them and then the rings sank down into the machine. Two glowing lights above each slot indicated that the rings had been successfully placed.

  Jackson took a deep breath and then slammed his palm down on the start button.

&n
bsp; “Challenge beginning in three, two…one — begin!”

  The Djinn rings flared with light and the tinting on the glass of the tower winked out, revealing the maze below. Jackson’s first impression was to stare at the complexity of the course — a quick glance showed several obstacles and puzzles. He wanted to study more but the clock running on the screen above his two Djinn rings kicked him into gear. Where were his Djinn?

  Jackson looked out from the tower at all angles and couldn’t spot Asena or Scrappy. He started to panic before remembering his mental Bond. Taking another deep breath, he calmed his mind and reached out first for Asena.

  All at once, she responded with a mental bark and Jackson knew exactly where she was. He ran across the small room and looked into the western portion of the maze. His heart sank a little at the sight. Asena was trapped in a cage.

  With the clock running, Jackson glanced around for a button or something to release the cage. He smacked the start button a couple of times but nothing happened. He commanded Asena to blast the cage with a Fire Bark. Nothing happened. Panic started to set in but then Jackson remembered Scrappy.

  The Magglecaw was positioned in the southern corner of the maze, a net stretching across the top, preventing him from flying over the walls. After promising Asena he would get her out as fast as he could, Jackson reached out to Scrappy. The Magglecaw’s mental chatter almost overwhelmed him but Jackson pushed it aside. If Asena couldn’t get out, then there had to be something else in the maze that released her. Jackson wagered it would be up to Scrappy to find it.

  Jackson looked out at the twisting turning paths. Unlike the maze games Jackson had played on his tablet as a kid, the training camp maze featured no hard angles on the walls, just a mess of routes, some with tubes that twisted and turned over one another like out of control vines.

  While directing Scrappy down the path leading from Jackson’s left of the Magglecaw’s starting location, Jackson searched for the finish line. The Djinn ran around the circular tower but found no telltale light or flag marking the goal. Then what was the purpose?