Djinn Tamer - The Complete Bronze League Trilogy

by Derek Alan Siddoway

“How many professional Djinn battles have you seen over the past four months?” Kay asked in an exasperated tone. “Why do you need to go to a place like the Underground, where everybody’s either on every illegal substance known to man or hasn’t showered in a week?”

  “It’s great, isn’t it?”

  “No! How does anything I just said sound great to you?”

  “We’ll only stay for an hour or so.”

  Kay sighed. “You say that every time. The only times we ever left in an hour or less is when we got thrown out or had to run away so you didn’t get beat up.”

  “Hey! I’ve never run away from a fight in my life!”

  “You remember the Underground a lot differently than I do,” Kay said. She shook her head as Jackson arranged his face in a sad, over-the-top pleading expression. “You’re pathetic. I’m pathetic. Let’s just get this over with.”

  They grabbed a Ryde Along and made their way to the outskirts of town. From there, it was a fifteen-minute walk to get to the abandoned warehouse that was serving as the Underground area around Perot that night.

  Jackson didn’t tell Kay, but part of the reason he’d wanted to come tonight was to watch an old — Jackson wasn’t sure if friend or foe was the right word — acquaintance fight. He’d only been mildly interested in the Underground until the poorly-formatted spreadsheet attached to the email listed Tako Rito as a fighter. Plus, Jackson was feeling more than a little sentimental that evening.

  As they drew closer, the temporary flood lights and mangled shouts of fans and tamers alike sent a tingle down Jackson’s back.

  “Man, I sure miss this sometimes,” he said.

  “What part?” Kay asked. “The part where you lost all of your money or the part where everyone surrounding us is either drunk or high?”

  “Or both!” a man next to them yelled out as he passed by, his hands stretched over his head in triumph…for some reason. The man and his friends cheered as they made their way into the warehouse itself.

  “The fighting,” Jackson said. “Sheesh, you shouldn’t be such a pessimist.”

  “My realism is probably the only reason you aren’t dead in a ditch somewhere.”

  Just as Kay described, they shouldered their way through groups of tattooed, pierced, unkempt, vaping, and drinking fans. Most didn’t seem to notice them, but one or two gave curt nods or hellos to Jackson, either recognizing him from the holo-vids of the past Bronze League season, or remembering him from his days fighting in the Underground. Although he didn’t cut a memorable figure on his own, the sight of a Lyote at Jackson’s heels made him a dead giveaway.

  Jackson spotted a spray-painted plywood sign over the crowd and they steered their way toward it. When the last people between them and the sign parted, Jackson saw a card table and two familiars faces.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Laila said. “If it isn’t the one and only Jackson Hunt. Come to lose some of that Bronze League money tonight, honey?”

  Jackson gave Laila a tight-lipped smile. Laila was the ringleader of the Underground fights in this area and had been personally responsible for cheating Jackson out of a significant amount of money he’d intended to put toward paying off the bank before he and his grandma had lost the house. Although Jackson knew he should have listened to Briggs and not been suckered in, it was still a sore spot to think what a difference all those thousands of suns could have made.

  “I’m flattered you still recognize me. I can’t have been the only kid you screwed over in the past year,” Jackson said. There was more friendly banter than bad blood in the statement.

  Laila laughed, revealing a mouth of silver and gold-plated teeth. She pushed her purple dreadlocks out of her face and spread her arms. “Welcome home, kid.”

  Jackson looked at the big man standing next to Laila. The bouncer folded his beefy arms over his chest and glared at Jackson.

  “Good to see you too, Drill,” Jackson said. “Have you lost some weight?”

  Drill gave a solemn nod. “Fifty pounds in the past year.”

  “You look good!”

  Drill only cracked his knuckles.

  Laila gave a friendly laugh. She walked around the table and ushered Jackson away from the table. “C’mon kid, Drill doesn’t take compliments too well. Anyway, there’s a fight I think you’ll be interested to see.” She winked at Kay. “Good to see you too, sweetie. I don’t know why you’re still hanging around with this guy, though.”

  Kay shot Jackson a smirk.

  They followed Laila through the crowd until they reached the edge of a makeshift arena, marked off with old plastic rope and construction barrels Jackson was pretty sure hadn’t been obtained legally. His concerns were pushed aside when he saw the tamer on the far side of the arena from them.

  Tak Rito didn’t look like he’d changed a thing since he’d been beaten out of Bronze League Training Camp a few months prior. He still wore a cutoff black t-shirt, still had the same greasy hair and still had the same I-don’t-give-a-damn look on his face. He might have had a couple more tattoos on his arm but Jackson couldn’t tell for sure from across the arena.

  “Did you know he was going to be here?” Kay asked as she shoved Jackson.

  “Why else would I come here?”

  Back when they were all in high school, Tak had harbored an unexpected crush on Kay. Jackson would have chalked it up to opposites attracting, as the clean-cut, rule-following Kay was as far on the other side of the spectrum as you could get from Tak…Except, much to Tak’s dismay, Kay was absolutely disgusted by him. And as far as Jackson knew, that much hadn’t changed over the years.

  Jackson really couldn’t blame her. His so-called friend had played a big role alongside Laila in Jackson getting screwed out of all his savings, but it was hard to hold a grudge against Tak. Behind his grungy exterior, he possessed a certain kind of…Jackson wouldn’t call it charm, but Tak just didn’t exude that scummy aura that some other folks in the Underground did.

  “Excuse me for a minute, loves,” Laila said.

  The Underground ringleader ducked beneath the rope and walked into the middle of the ring between the two tamers. Tak’s opponent, a heavy woman who may have been part Rhinoral, glared at Jackson’s high school friend across the ring. Her face was purple, though whether from deep concentration or a general nasty disposition, Jackson couldn’t tell.

  Laila gave her customary introduction — she could play to her crowd of people like no one Jackson had ever met — and then raised an air horn overhead.

  “Fight!”

  Chapter Nine

  Tak’s carefree attitude vanished as soon as Laila’s air horn sounded. He plugged his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle while extending his other arm toward the center of the battle. A greenish-blue light shot from his right hand and, a moment later, Tak’s Lutrotter materialized, rolling through the sand toward his opponent.

  The Rhinoral woman punched a pudgy fist forward and Frogulp appeared in a blast of swampy green light.

  “Two Water-Elementals,” Jackson said, leaning over so Kay could hear him above the crowd. “This should be an interesting matchup. Tak’s Lutrotter can run circles around that Frogulp, but the Frogulp’s Defense is high enough it might be able to outlast them.

  True to Jackson’s prediction, the Lutrotter pulled itself into a tight ball and whizzed around and around the Frogulp. The heavy woman’s eyes bulged as she commanded her Djinn to attack over and over with its Tongue Stick (she did so verbally, as most amateur tamers did), but the Frogulp just couldn’t keep up with Tak’s Lutrotter. The Djinn spun around until it was dizzy, at which point the Lutrotter popped out of its ball and blasted the Frogulp in the face with a well-placed Water Torrent attack. The jet of water sent the Frogulp flipping end over end until it landed at the feet of its tamer, unmoving.

  Jackson gave an appreciative nod. The match wasn’t much — he would’ve expected Laila to pair a tamer of Tak’s level with a more skilled opponent. Nevertheles
s, it showed just how far Tak had come since he’d been cut from the Granite Region roster during Training Camp.

  The heavy, sullen woman recalled her knocked out Frogulp and shoved her way roughly through the crowd without bothering to congratulate Tak. Jackson’s old friend didn’t seem to mind. He strode into the center of the ring, arms raised as if conducting the crowd to shout his name in chorus even louder. After basking in the adulation for a few moments, he whistled to his Lutrotter again. Crackling, bassy music blared over the speakers and the pair busted out a coordinated break dance. It was a completely over-the-top showboating, poor winner move, but Jackson admitted it looked pretty cool. How much time had he spent teaching his Lutrotter how to dance?

  “What a total jerk,” Kay said, folding her arms. Apparently in the case of her and Tak, distance hadn’t made the heart grow fonder.

  Tak popped up and crossed his arms as the celebration dance ended and the crowd erupted in applause. The man knew how to put on a show, that was for sure. Tak’s Lutrotter jumped onto his shoulder and they made their way toward Laila, who was still standing next to Jackson and Kay. After a few steps, Tak recognized the pair and shouted in surprise.

  “I can’t believe it — Jackson Hunt decided to pay me a visit,” Tak laughed and held out an arm to pull Jackson into a one-armed hug and bro slap on the back. “I hope you were taking notes, that’s gotta be some kind of record for the shortest Underground battle.”

  “Remind me to pair you up with someone who’ll kick your ass into next Tuesday next time,” Laila said, handing Tak a wad of bills. Tak took it and spent an extra long time tucking it into his pants pocket. Laila shook her head and pushed through the crowd, no doubt onto the next match where she could hopefully wring some money out of unfortunate gamblers who picked the wrong tamer.

  “Dude, you looked good out there,” Jackson said. “Are you going to try out for Bronze League again next year? You’re better than half the tamers I’ve faced this season!”

  “Well, that doesn’t say much about your competition, does it, Fab Four?” Tak replied with a wink. “I’m just messing — you’ve been solid. I’ve watched a few of the fights. But nah, I dunno if the League play is for me. The fact is, I can. Clean. Up. Fighting in the Underground — hell, I’m probably making more than you!”

  “Probably,” Jackson admitted. That wasn’t really saying much. Sure, the Bronze League paid for a lot of his accommodations and food, but the take-home pay wasn’t anything to brag about. He easily would have made more working full-time at Sato Breeders in his first year. “You know there’s way more money to be made at Silver and Gold with sponsors and all.”

  “That’s if you can lock down a sponsor,” Tak said. “Not everyone can be a shoo-in like you, bro. I’ve heard of Silver Leaguers competing almost solely for the love of the sport, wallowing at the bottom of the competitive ladder.”

  “But don’t you ever want to compete in front of a crowd that isn’t high as a kite? Like a real audience in the big show?”

  “Did you hear the cheers, Jackie Boy?” Tak said. “Are you telling me this isn’t a real audience?” As if on cue, the onlookers of another battle let out an eruption — both of excitement and anger. Jackson couldn’t argue. It definitely felt more Tak’s speed than the prim and polished nature of the Bronze League.

  Tak rubbed his chin with a grease-lined hand — Jackson didn’t care to ask how it had come to be that way but was pretty sure it wasn’t from mechanic work. “I guess there will always be the question of how far I could have gone, you know?” He raised the shoulder his Lutrotter was sitting on. “Problem is, Slippery Joe here is pushing Level 24 already. I wouldn’t make it through camp without him passing the Level 25 threshold. He’s getting past the point of evolution, too. I tamed him after he’d already evolved from Seapup to Lutrotter — kind of screwed me over.”

  The Lutrotter squeaked and looked at Tak as if he understood what he said.

  “Yeah, that’s right, you ruined my life,” Tak said in a baby-talk voiced as he rubbed the Djinn’s chin. The Lutrotter gave an indignant squeak. “Oh, get over it, you drama queen. I’m kidding.”

  Jackson didn’t know what to say to that. All of sudden, his decision to keep Asena in her basic Lyote form didn’t sound like such a good idea. Tak took Jackson’s silence as an opportunity to throw the dice at Kay.

  “So, you tired of traveling around the country with this loser and ready to settle down yet?” Tak asked her. “I sold the double-wide, bought myself a real house with all my Underground earnings. But it could use a woman’s touch.”

  Kay just gave Tak a deadpan look.

  Tak threw back his head and laughed so hard Slippery Joe fell off his shoulder with an indignant shriek. He clapped Jackson on the shoulder.

  “Whatever you do man, don’t let this one get away.”

  “Yeah…” Jackson said. He was too busy thinking about Asena to notice the look Kay shot him. He glanced down at his watch. It was around the time he’d told Kay they would leave, and Jackson’s previous excitement at visiting the Underground had waned beneath the weight of the choices he faced.

  “We better get going,” Jackson said. He forced a smile. “Good luck, man. Whatever you decide to do.”

  Tak nodded and gave them a salute. “You know it. Go take some names in the playoffs, eh? Now, I’ve got to go see Laila — it would be nice to get some real competition next weekend. We’ll be in Green Town if you’re interested in another lesson!”

  Chapter Ten

  Jackson clenched and unclenched his clammy hands as he and Briggs pulled up outside the Hotel de Burgundy, the swanky, upscale resort hosting the Bronze League Awards Ceremony. He glanced outside the windows at the bronze-colored carpet and step-and-repeat backdrop with the DBL logo on it and felt his stomach do a flip.

  “Relax, kid,” Briggs said, leaning forward in his seat and slapping Jackson on the knee. “It’s just a big party. Remember what I told you, we’re just here to have a good time. Awards don’t matter. Hell, I’ve been saying for years that even having this before the playoffs and championship doesn’t make sense. But you know by now that no one listens to me.”

  When they’d received his email invitation to the ceremony, Jackson and Briggs has been notified that Jackson was nominated for several awards: chief among them were Most Valuable Bronze League Tamer (all of the Fabulous Four were nominated), Best Djinn Duo, and Best Tamer/Djinn Combo. Jackson felt excited at the prospect but forced himself not to get his hopes up. Briggs helped by keeping Jackson focused on the real prize: hoisting the Bronze League Cup over his head at the end of the playoffs. Anything else was just a consolation.

  Although many tamers had to compete at the Bronze level for multiple years before they advanced, Jackson hoped to move on quickly. From what he’d learned, it was much easier to compete for multiple years in the Silver League due to tiered level restrictions and the greater income you’d likely receive from sponsors. He just needed to get there. The challenge he faced with Asena only compounded the pressure.

  “If you do win, stand up, thank your grandma, me, Kay, and whoever the hell you feel like and sit down,” Briggs said. “That’s all. Otherwise, smile, laugh, eat, drink — whatever. All of the other tamers will be here, it’s not like you’re in front of an unfamiliar crowd. You’ve been to a party before, right? Why am I telling you all this?”

  Jackson was too distracted to listen closely. They stepped out of the driver-less limo where a handful of journalists waited. Jackson held his breath, expecting to be bombarded with flashing cameras and a million questions, but most of the reporters were already engaged with other tamers who’d recently arrived. A couple turned their way but their questions didn’t take more than a couple minutes to answer. If Jackson’s responses to the reporters were any indication of what he’d be like if he had to give an acceptance speech, he was in for a long night. He had no idea how, but while in the process of answering a question on his taming process, he ha
d veered off into the subject of tonight’s dinner — not the Bronze League dinner as a whole, but the actual dinner he’d be eating soon. Before he could finish floundering his response, Briggs smiled and ushered him away.

  “I sure hope they don’t run the video with that story,” Briggs said. “You ever talk to a human before? That reporter never asked you what you were having for dinner and I’m pretty sure our strategy in the upcoming playoff isn’t seared Marifinn, unless I missed something.”

  “Sorry,” Jackson said. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

  Briggs nodded sagely. “It’s Kay, isn’t it? Now that she’s gonna leave you for school, you suddenly figured out you’ve been in love with her all this time and don’t want her to go.”

  “What the — no!” Jackson was definitely paying attention now. “I’m worried about Asena!”

  It’d been three days since he and Kay visited the Underground, and the conversation with Tak had done nothing to give Jackson confidence in his choice about Asena. He’d spent another full day poring over Jessica’s research — both in the notebook form and data card form from Crevajo — but had come away with very little helpful information on Lyote evolution. All he had to go on was what Vega had told him earlier — that specific conditions were required. Briggs hadn’t been much help, either.

  “Now that I have your attention I’ll tell you what I already told you on the plane,” his mentor said. “Worry about the things in your control. Look, if you can become a top four Bronze League tamer with a Scoundrook in your lineup, having a Lyote instead of a Lobolf isn’t going to hold you back at the next level.”

  Jackson gave the same reply he had on the plane. “Yeah, but what about the level after that?”

  Briggs slapped him on the shoulder. “You worry about one thing at a time. Too many tamers become crippled with anxiety after looking too far ahead. Right now, you need to focus on the playoffs. When you get selected for the Silver League, we’ll worry about prepping your team. Got it?”