Raz recalled his Cryano and sent out his second Djinn. As soon as it materialized from an aqua green light, Jackson knew Moto had the fight in hand. Raz’s second Djinn was a Tadpog, a small, amphibious Djinn in its Basic form. Jackson guessed Raz had been focusing all of his training on his much more powerful Cryano and had also made the mistake of bringing two Water-Elemental Djinn to camp. This made him extremely susceptible to Wind-Elemental Djinn. And Jackson knew what Moto’s other Djinn was.
Surprisingly, Moto left her Scorbble — down to a third of his HP — out to fight the Tadpog. The little Water-Elemental Djinn hopped into the air on powerful hind legs and let out a large ribbit that turned into a spray of bubbles. Moto sent her Scorbble back into the sand, but the bubbles pursued and didn’t seem impacted by the ground. The Scorbble popped out of the sand a few feet away a moment later and collapsed.
Moto recalled the Scorbble without much concern and sent out her second Djinn — a Zanga. Jackson had only seen her use it a couple of times in passing and raised his watch to get a quick scan as the battle commenced.
Djinn: Zanga
Element: Wind
Zanga is an Intermediate-Form, Wind-Elemental Djinn. Native to the plains of Osmara, Zangas generally live in groups of four or five. Due to the thunderstorm-like nature of their habitat, they’ve adapted over the millennia and are able to create electricity of their own by rubbing their paws together or drying out their environment using Wind attacks.
None of that surprised him. What did surprise him was the Zanga’s level — 23.
Jackson couldn’t believe it — he’d thought the Scorbble was Moto’s starter Djinn based on its level alone, but the Zanga far outpaced it. Jackson didn’t know how long she’d been taming, but doubted anyone in camp could beat Moto’s duo. Perhaps even more surprising was Moto’s confidence. Briggs had told him that most tamers kept their Djinn levels hidden from other users. The fact that Moto didn’t showed that she either didn’t care or wanted others to know just how much stronger her Djinn were than theirs.
The Zanga bounced around upright on its powerful hind legs and threw out a couple of jabs into the air. Two quick blasts of wind struck the Tadpog and buffeted the creature into the sand. Jackson looked at the overhead screen and saw the display showing the Tadpog’s health drop drastically. To his credit, Raz managed to rally his Djinn, who dodged another Breeze Jab and rolled upright. The Tadpog sent a blast of bubbles into the Zanga’s face, only momentarily distracting the Djinn and causing little damage due to the the Tadpog’s Elemental disadvantage. Moto thrust out a hand and the Zanga bounced once and then struck its boxing-glove-like paws together. A boom sounded and a blast of lightning shot out from the connected paws. It hit the Tadpog square in the face and ended the fight immediately.
The rest of Barrack 8 yelled out in frustration. Moto’s Zanga, in addition to having an advanced move set, was also a level higher than any other Djinn the tamers at camp commanded. Many of them yelled out how unfair it was that a Djinn as strong as Moto’s Zanga was even allowed.
“That is enough,” Vanova said. “The battle was won fair and square. If anyone has a problem with that you can head straight to your room and start packing your things.”
Moto walked toward them, completely unaffected by the outburst. If Jackson hadn’t witnessed the match, he wouldn’t have been able to tell if she’d won or lost. Jackson didn’t think Moto was being cool under pressure — it legitimately seemed like she just couldn’t be bothered by it.
On the walk across the grounds toward the barracks, everyone congratulated Moto. Everyone except Akamu, that is, which was par for the course at this point. He hung back from the rest of the group and looked almost as upset that Moto had won as the tamers from Barrack 8. It wasn’t until Jackson entered his room that it finally sank in what the win meant: he would be entering the final week of the training camp. He had a chance of making the roster. All he had to do was make it through the coming tournament.
For some reason, it felt like a hollow victory, though. As Jackson told both Kay and his grandma on the holo, he hadn’t actually done anything. He’d muddled his way through the week, losing all of the lead he’d gathered in the maze and likely only survived the cuts because Moto had given them immunity with her win over Raz. Both Kay and Jane brushed aside Jackson’s comments and gave him variations of the same speech about how he hadn’t made it this far by luck. He tried not to show his frustration and ended both calls with a smile.
It was still only early afternoon but Jackson didn’t want to watch the rest of the barrack fights on the camp holo-feed, nor did he want to hang out in the commons. Miguel, Lucia, Hayden, and Appleby were celebrating like they’d just won the camp tournament or something. Jackson thought it felt a little too premature for such antics and honestly, didn’t want to hypothesize who might face who in the tournaments any more.
A knock came at the door. Jackson rose, preparing himself to tell Appleby or Miguel some excuse about catching up on his rest or needing to get some extra studying. Instead, Jackson was surprised to find Briggs when he opened the door.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure,” Jackson said. He felt a bit taken aback — in the weeks they’d been at camp, this was the first time Briggs had stopped by his room.
After a short glance around, Briggs sat down on the small couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. He let out a big sigh and broke out in a rare smile.
“So, how’s it feel?”
“How does what feel? I didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly!” Briggs said. “Best kind of victory. And you’re in the home stretch now. It was touch-and-go for a while there, but I think we’ve got a shot.”
Jackson didn’t really know what to say and didn’t feel like mustering any false bravado to match Briggs sudden and unexpected celebratory mood. Briggs must have seen the look on his face, because his grin faded and he sat up on the couch.
“For crying out loud, what in the hell’s the matter now?”
“I don’t know!” Jackson said in a loud voice. He threw his hands in the air and paced back and forth across the room. “This place is messing with my mind, I guess — I know I should be happy we’ve made it to the final week, but all I can think about is how I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for a bunch of lucky breaks. The only thing separating me from the cut list is Moto Rine and literally one good performance in the maze — and I still feel like they think I cheated in some way.”
Briggs locked eyes with Jackson for a long moment and then just shook his head. “Are you kidding me? Have you looked around at the tamers in this place? Most don’t have half the talent you do with Djinn. I don’t mean fighting Djinn. I mean just connecting with them. Sure, you hit a bump when your Djinn decided they didn’t want to get along. That’s nothing new — tamers deal with that all the time. You just had the bad luck of it happening right before you needed to rely on them at camp. That’s how the league works. They don’t want the tamers who can succeed when it’s easy. They want the teams of tamers and Djinn who can fight through it. That’s the whole point of camp.”
Jackson opened his mouth with a counter but then fell silent. He really didn’t have anything to say to that. He knew Briggs was right but something kept holding him back, a part of him that hadn’t existed before his loss to Fiona in the tournament. It was as if Briggs could tell exactly what he was thinking.
“What you’ve got to learn to do is shake off the losses, kid. Everyone gets beat. There’s not a single tamer with a completely undefeated record out there. The good tamers are the ones that get over it. The great tamers are the ones who use it for fuel instead of letting it mess with their head. Take it from someone who knows — it’s time you give yourself a little credit and believe in yourself and your Djinn. If you’ve got doubts and you’re holding back, your Djinn are going to know it at some level. They’re going to feel it. That connection you’ve got can be one of your most powerful assets, o
r it’s gonna doom you because your Djinn are feeding off what’s going on in your head.”
Jackson nodded. He had to admit he felt better.
Briggs stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t always admit when I’m wrong, but I was wrong about you. You’ve got what it takes. What you gotta do is get it through your own head. What I tell you and what everyone else tells you only goes so far. It comes down to you. Now, you’ve got one week left. What are you gonna do?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
After the next round of tamers were cut, Jackson found himself in the bottom twenty, number fifty of sixty to be exact. With only one week left in camp, he refocused his efforts on working as hard as he could to get Scrappy and Asena in sync with one another. Each day the pair showed some small progress, but in the back of Jackson’s mind he wondered if it would be enough.
The tamers were given Sunday to rest, with promises from camp staff that Monday would come bright and early and be their most grueling week yet. Jackson had heard from camp staff and tamers who’d talked to their predecessors at some point that the fourth week of training camp was called “Hell Week,” and something inside Jackson told him it would live up to that name.
“All right, boys and girls,” Vanova said when she met them at sunrise in the barrack commons on Monday. “As a group, you’ve made quite a stir around this place — this team has some of the best tamers in camp. But if you’re going to make it to the final competition and onto the Bronze League Granite Region roster, you’re still going to have to give it your all.”
The elimination format was simple: by the end of the week, forty tamers would be removed from the camp and sent home after coming so close to achieving their dreams. The remaining twenty tamers would then end camp by competing in a round robin tournament to determine the overall camp MVP and the top eight would secure roster positions in the Bronze League as representatives of the Granite Region for the coming season. Additionally, those in the top eight would receive small signing bonuses for making it onto the roster.
Jackson knew how much his signing bonus would help his grandma. He hadn’t put too much thought into it, but he’d realized the evening after Briggs’s pep talk that he’d still have to help support his grandma while on the road during the Bronze League season. At the moment, he was chipping in from savings and also using the money he would have spent on feed and vitamins for Asena and Scrappy — camp staff and, if he made it, the Granite Region would continue to pay for some of his personal needs, but that did little good to Jane back home. The extra incentive had pushed him even harder in his training sessions over the weekend.
The activities for the week consisted of a culmination of everything they’d done so far: drills in Speed, Strength, Elemental Power, one-on-one fights in a variety of different scenarios and situations, obstacles, team battles and more. Each morning began as always with an exercise regimen, followed by drills, a break for lunch, battles, and then classroom time in the evenings. By the time Monday ended, Jackson’s head felt fuzzy, his body ached, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. After a quick call to Jane and Kay, that was exactly what he did.
Scrappy and Asena both fell asleep quickly as well. Part of the reason Jackson felt he was finally making inroads with his two Djinn was thanks to the grueling regimen. Both were too tired to bicker at one another after the end of the long days. They also seemed to start understanding that losing while fighting individually gave them a lot more bumps, bruises, and wounds than when they put forth a coordinated attack.
The final week went by in a blur: four days of nonstop training, battling and studying. Thursday turned out to be a recovery day, but the lack of physical work was replaced by more time in the classroom. This allowed the Djinn to recover, even if their tamers had to struggle to stay awake and fight the draining fatigue of camp.
In the evening, everyone ate in the large dining area together rather than individual barracks. Though unlike previous dinners, and in spite of the entire camp being present, the room remained quiet. The only sounds were a few murmured conversations between tamers asking for a napkin or to pass the salt and pepper. Everyone was saving what little energy they had left to walk back to their barrack dorms and crawl into bed.
Before they could leave, however, camp staff presented their final challenge. The last test designed to weed out two-thirds of their ranks before the approaching tournament. Mr. Golding, the head of camp logistics, stood up on one of the cafeteria benches.
“First of all, congratulations to all of you who made it this far,” he said. “Training Camp isn’t an easy ordeal, but you’ve made it through almost an entire month of the most intensive Djinn training out there. This may only be the Bronze League, but training camp is designed to weed out the tamers who can’t make it to the next level. Just by being this close, you’ve proved you’ve got what it takes.”
A dull applause devoid of cheers or whistles followed that. Jackson thought everyone was probably wondering what they’d done to deserve this treatment, not patting themselves on the back for surviving it.
“Unfortunately, just having what it takes is not enough in the Djinn Battle League. You’ve got to harness a combination of skill, luck, and fortitude to be the best of the best. The final challenge will see which ones of you can muster this collection of intangibles.”
Behind the head of the table, a projection appeared on the wall above the camp director. It showed a map, similar to the maze challenge but with obstacles placed throughout. There were no winding tunnels or dead ends, just a series of tests, one after another. All of the specifics were blurred out, but Jackson knew that the camp staff would be throwing everything they had into this final test in an effort to get only the best tamers into the camp tournament.
“Your final challenge will be an obstacle course that you and your Djinn will participate in together,” the director explained. “A combination of drills and scenarios to test all aspects of your training and the unique ways you can solve problems both in and out of battle. We will begin tomorrow morning at seven a.m. sharp. Get a good night’s rest and good luck to all of you.”
When they returned to the barrack, a couple of tamers stayed up in the commons to discuss the upcoming challenge. Jackson didn’t see the point — they wouldn’t be provided with more information before they had their turn anyway, so he bid Miguel, Lucia, and Appleby goodnight and retired to his room. After he’d showered and prepped everything he needed for the morning, Jackson sat on the edge of his bed and released both Asena and Scrappy from their rings.
The two Djinn eyed each other warily, but a sharp telepathic command from Jackson refocused their attention on him. He looked them both in the eyes in turn. Asena stood on the floor in front of him while Scrappy perched on a dresser to Jackson’s left.
“This is it tomorrow, guys. If we want to make it to the tournament and onto the Bronze League roster, we’ve got to do our best tomorrow. That means no fighting with each other, no trying to outdo one another, got it? If we win or lose, it will because all three of us worked together or failed to work together.”
Asena whined and jumped on the bed next to Jackson then laid her head on his knee. Likewise, Scrappy hopped from the dresser and landed on Jackson’s shoulder. He cackled into his ear and ran his beak through the side of Jackson’s hair. Most of the time it was like a grooming motion, but sometimes the Magglecaw plucked a few hairs out, as if to let Jackson know he wasn’t entirely tamed.
Jackson laid a hand on Asena’s head and reached up to pet Scrappy’s feathers. “There’s no reason we can’t do this, guys,” he said to them as much as himself. “And if we don’t make it, let’s be sure we don’t have any regrets after tomorrow, all right?”
Asena yipped in agreement and Scrappy let out another series of cackles. After one final pet, Jackson climbed into bed. For the first night, he let both Djinn stay out — Asena slept beside him on the sheets and Scrappy on the headboard. Jackson thought he
would have a hard time sleeping, but his whirling thoughts died down as soon as he closed his eyes. Before he knew it, the alarm sounded.
The day of the final challenge had arrived.
Like the maze test two weeks previous, all of the tamers from the even-numbered barracks were led into the western end of the fieldhouse where they gathered together in front of the camp staff and their coaches. Vance grinned and gave Jackson a wink when he spotted him. Briggs was a few paces away, a stoic look on his face — whether from a hangover or taking his coaching duties seriously, Jackson wasn’t sure. There seemed to be a tension in there, not only with the tamers but the staff and coaches as well. Barrack 4 took their seats and waited with the other tamers to be addressed.
Jackson shot a glance down the row at the other tamers from his barrack. He’d known all along that Fiona, Akamu, Moto, and perhaps even Appleby would hang around for a long time in camp, but Miguel, Hayden, and Lucia surprised him. As he’d come to know the last three more, he’d learned a valuable lesson in not underestimating opponents and wasn’t looking forward to battling against any of the fellow Barrack 4 tamers in the tournament. The rest of the room was likewise filled with some of the most talented tamers Jackson had ever seen at his level. It was hard to believe that forty of them would never get the chance to compete for a final roster spot.
Shifting his gaze, Jackson tried to study the obstacle course for any hints or signs of what was to come. Rather than the square maze setup, the entire end of the fieldhouse was covered in a wall that blocked off the challenges within. A single door in the center of the wall led under an archway into who knew what beyond. Calculating what he knew the length of the fieldhouse was from running its interior until he wanted to puke, Jackson guessed the course was at least one hundred and fifty yards long. He didn’t know how much it would snake back and forth, but that would still be a lot of nasty obstacles while on the clock.
Djinn Tamer - The Complete Bronze League Trilogy Page 45