Djinn Tamer - The Complete Bronze League Trilogy

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  “Got it,” Jackson said as Briggs steered them up the stairs to the main entrance. Two butlers opened the frosted glass doors, revealing a room full of crystal lights, gold and silver decor, and the soft din of dozens of tamers and their coaches socializing.

  “Listen up, because you aren’t gonna hear me say this very often,” Briggs said. “Tonight, your job is to loosen up and have a good time. I swear, you’ve been wound up tighter than a Tornawhirl on the attack this past month.”

  Jackson didn’t feel much like letting loose, but before he could say anything, Briggs was gone, no doubt heading toward the open bar. For the dozenth time that night, Jackson wished Kay had been able to come. While the best trainer an aspiring tamer could hope for, Briggs was anything but a pillar of strength when it came to emotional matters. His solutions usually involved “getting over it” or “drowning it” with a beverage of choice. Jackson looked around, feeling completely out of place, although he knew almost everyone in the room at this stage. Fortunately, an attendant spotted him and pulled up a seating chart on his tablet.

  “Ah, Mr. Hunt. Right this way. Most of your table is already seated. The social hour is about half an hour, then the Commissioner will address the gathering before dinner and the awards presentation.”

  Jackson thanked the white-gloved man and allowed himself to be led to a table in the front of the room. He froze when he saw who was already seated.

  Fiona looked… not like Fiona at all. She wore a shimmering gold dress that sparkled every time she moved in the chandelier lighting, and her dark hair fell in curls over her tanned shoulders. Jackson blinked. This was certainly unexpected. And not at all conducive to him loosening up like Briggs wanted.

  “What’s the matter?” Fiona asked. “Your tux too tight?”

  “N-no,” Jackson said. His mouth felt like he’d just been licking dirt. “You uh, look nice, that’s all.”

  Fiona’s eyes narrowed, as if deciding if he was making fun of her somehow. Jackson wanted to say he was deadly serious, but when he didn’t smile or laugh, her face softened.

  “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself. I take back what I said about you being a hayseed. You’re much better looking without that stupid hat on all the time.”

  Jackson didn’t know what to say. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, leaving it a bit more disheveled than it had been before. He hadn’t ever kept track, but he was fairly certain that was the first time Fiona had ever complimented him. About anything.

  After Jackson muttered thanks and sat down stiffly at the table, they lapsed into a brutal silence. Although he’d grown up with Fiona, the only time they’d ever really spent any extended time together in the past several months was when they were either at Bronze League Training Camp, across the ring from one another, or sitting in interviews. Aside from that, Fiona just wasn’t the kind of person you really engaged in small talk with. She was all business all the time since she’d become a tamer.

  To avoid staring at her — he had a hard enough time thinking without looking at Fiona in that dress — Jackson studied the ballroom. Every tamer from the Bronze League had been invited to the party, and by the look of things, almost all of them and their coaches had shown up. The ballroom had a high, vaulted ceiling bedecked with crystal chandeliers and long, cream-colored columns along both of the outside walls. It was long and rectangular with the tables arranged at one end, food and drink bars on both sides, and a raised podium with an enormous Bronze League DBL banner hanging behind it. Jackson assumed that was where the commissioner would make his address and the awards would be presented.

  Everyone seemed to have gotten the memo about formal attire. Jackson had never been in a room with so many evening gowns and tuxedos. Then again, before that night, he couldn’t ever remember being in a room with anyone wearing an evening gown or tuxedo. It felt like a swanky party out of a spy movie. Part of Jackson expected masked men in suits to walk in and ask for everyone’s diamonds at any moment.

  “This is quite the party,” Jackson said in an attempt to stir the conversation again. Fiona looked amazing, but almost as out of place as Jackson felt. “Not really my scene, though.”

  “Mine either,” Fiona said with genuine interest. “I don’t get why we can only let our Djinn out for pictures at the end of the night. You’d expect the DBL would find a venue that was Djinn-friendly.”

  “Maybe they didn’t want any fights starting up before the playoffs,” Jackson suggested. “You get this many tamers in a room with Djinn of all Elements, shapes, and sizes and something is bound to get broken.”

  “I guess,” Fiona said. “But this is a DBL-sponsored event, not some frat party.” She pursed her lips and looked around. Jackson got the impression she was hoping someone else would come save her from the dreadful, awkward situation she was in at the table alone with him.

  Whether in answer to a summons or just dumb luck, Briggs chose that moment to join them, accompanied by Fiona’s coach, Vance McAllister. Vance had taken Briggs’s place as the Gold League Champion long ago, but the rivalry between the two hadn’t faded in the years since. Vance still occasionally fought in the Gold League, but only in specialty invitationals or other one-off tournaments, not in the League play. He’d recently been building up a stable of tamers under the McAllister name, which was how Fiona had come to receive his coaching.

  Jackson was surprised to find Briggs and Vance being so chummy. It wasn’t like they hated one another — although Jackson knew they hated losing to one another — but Vance and Briggs were acting like a pair of long lost schoolmates, laughing, back slapping, and sloshing drinks. They both sat down in their chairs, faces flushed, wide grins plastered on their faces. Somehow, the contrast between the grinning pair of coaches and the silent Jackson and Fiona made things all that much weirder.

  “Hey there, Jackson!” Vance said in his twangy Osmaran accent. “Good to see you again. Tough break in that match, but I expect ol’ Briggsy here’ll have you ready to roll next month, eh?”

  “Thanks,” Jackson said. He’d grown up as a fan of the DBL and still had a hard time holding regular conversations with famous tamers, especially Vance. The effect had somewhat lessened with Briggs over time, but he’d only had very limited exposure to Vance in the past year since they first met.

  “Maybe we’ll get to see these two have a rematch,” Briggs said, gesturing with his drink hand to Fiona and Jackson.

  That’s great, Briggs, Jackson thought, Why don’t you make it even more weird and awkward between us tonight?

  “I hope not for your sake, Jackson,” Vance said with a wink.

  The pair of old rivals digressed into a conversation about the Gold League and some of the recent league rule changes that chaffed them. This left Jackson and Fiona, who were seated next to each other, to pick up yet another conversation.

  “I’m surprised at the number of older tamers here,” Jackson said. “I never really thought about people cycling through the Bronze League before, but I swear there’s a couple of people old enough to be our parents here.”

  Fiona took a sip from her glass of water and raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought my dad gave you the whole ‘one percent of one percent of tamers make it to the Gold League’ speech when you turned his job offer down?”

  “Yeah,” Jackson said and shrugged. “You know me though, I’m no math whiz, but it’s still kinda weird to see in-person with everyone all together in one room.”

  They looked across the room at a collection of tamers in their thirties and forties seated together. Most of them sipped their drinks and either talked quietly to each other or glared around at the young blood in the room.

  “I heard Monty Carol over there is on his third generation of Djinn in this League,” Fiona said. “He’s got three over Level 25 and can’t do anything with them but fight in non-official DBL events that earn hardly any money.” Fiona pointed to a woman with blonde hair streaked with gray that looked like an angry teacher with her th
ick-rimmed glasses. “And you know Teresa Connelly — rumor has it she gets together with the older tamers each year and they try to knock out the up-and-comers from the playoffs. Nothing’s ever been proven, of course, but she definitely isn’t a fan of new tamers, especially us, from what I hear.”

  “That’s crazy!” Jackson said. “The whole reason the DBL is set up like this is so the best talent rises to the top.”

  “Yeah, well, tell that to someone who’s been doing what we just did the last four months for ten or twelve years,” Fiona said. “Imagine spending all those years working hard just to realize you’re nothing but below-average in the sport as a whole. All I’m saying is, be careful around those guys.”

  Jackson shot another secretive look over at the table of older tamers. They definitely didn’t look especially thrilled to be here. He recognized a few of them from battles throughout the season, but a quick glance told him that the only category any of them were nominated for in the awards ceremony was “Comeback Tamer of the Year.” Not exactly the most prestigious honor.

  “You two talking about the Salvage Tamers?” Vance said.

  “Salvage Tamers?” Jackson said.

  “It’s what you call the career Bronzers,” Briggs said. “The semi-pros who won’t admit they don’t have what it takes but compete at just a high enough level that they hang around year after year. I wouldn’t say that to any of their faces though.”

  Vance laughed. “It takes all types to make the league work,” he said. “Some people just need to face the fact that they’re not cut out to be professional tamers.”

  This is coming from a guy who’s the one percent of the one percent, Jackson thought. As someone who’d spent all but the last three months of his taming career as an underdog, he didn’t appreciate the idea of dealing out a phrase like Salvage Tamers offhandedly. They were still people with passions and dreams. Even if they didn’t make it to the next level, he had to hand it to them for coming back year after year.

  Just then, a woman stood up at the lectern at the end of the ballroom to call for everyone’s attention. As she congratulated the tamers on their season and introduced the league commissioner, Walton Belmont, Jackson’s eyes wandered over to the older tamers sitting together across the hall. He watched as Monty Carol gave a half-hearted clap, his three silver rings dull and chipped in the chandelier lighting, and a terrible thought struck Jackson.

  If I screw things up with Asena, am I going to end up a Salvage Tamer?

  Chapter Eleven

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Commissioner Belmont said, voice booming throughout the banquet hall. “Esteemed tamers and coaches. First of all, give yourself a pat on the back for a season well played. The Bronze League holo-ratings have never been higher and it’s all thanks to the excellent spirit of competition we’ve enjoyed from tamers like you. In fact, you could say the season has been fabulous.”

  A smatter of polite, awkward laughter filled the room. Jackson felt his face flush at the obvious compliment. He also felt a number of eyes look his way, since he and Fiona were the only members of the Fab Four seated together. He wished he could duck beneath the pressed tablecloth.

  “I know everyone’s getting excited to hear about the playoff format for this year,” Belmont continued. “And, if you’re like me, you’re ready for some of the world famous de Burgundy food! But before we can get to the festivities, it’s time to recognize some especially hard-working and successful tamers from our league this season…”

  Jackson had a hard time paying attention as the lady emceeing the event announce each award category and the nominated tamers. He heard his name come up in the categories he’d already been notified about, but secretly hoped he wouldn’t be called up. He didn’t feel like being displayed in front of the crowd and especially didn’t want to garner any more attention from the Salvage Tamers’ table. They’d shot disgusted looks at him and Fiona after the commissioner’s joke as if to say, just you wait.

  The smaller awards were announced and their recipients asked to give a short statement and claim their trophy. As it turned out, the awards also came with cash prizes, which Jackson hadn’t known about before.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to win something after all.

  Jackson’s attention was drawn back to the front of the crowd as the first award for “Best Battle Performance of the Year” was awarded. Valerie Krandle, the night’s emcee, pulled open the envelope, smiled and stepped closer to the microphone.

  “Fiona Sato.”

  Applause began as a clip of Fiona and her Megala, Rebel, started playing on screens throughout the ballroom. It was a highlight from a midseason battle, when Rebel had been down to his last handful of hit points against a particularly intense Floraceros. By all rights, the Wind-Elemental Rebel should have lost to the Earth-Elemental rhino, who’d had the upper hand in the battle from the get-go. But somehow, Fiona and Rebel had managed to strike their opponent with a Sleeping Feather Needle attack, and had gone on to win by the narrowest of margins.

  Jackson cheered as loud as anyone. It had truly been an awesome battle to watch, and one that had been on highlight reels and replays on the Djinn Battle League networks all season long. Other awards came and went. Comeback Player of the Year was awarded to an older tamer who had qualified for the playoffs after a gruesome injury to his Kasstor mid-season the year before. Danai won the award for Best All Around Team — her duo of a Sycova and Pegasteed had been a hard one to beat in doubles, even with Elemental advantages.

  Through it all, Jackson clapped and cheered, but was admittedly a little put out that he hadn’t won anything so far. He was, after all, a member of the Fab Four and held one of the top end-of-season rankings. Plus, the money would have gone a long way in keeping things secure for his grandma at home and adding a little cushion in his taming funds. Had his last battle against Ron Shakur cost him more than he’d thought?

  At last, only three awards were left: Best Tamer-Djinn duo, Djinn of the Year, and Most Valuable Tamer. Jackson looked across the room where Akamu sat, one arm resting on the back of his chair, legs crossed in an arrogant pose. The younger Kaleo obviously expected to win one, if not two, of the final awards.

  “And now we come down to our final recognitions,” Valerie Krandle said. “Beginning with Best Djinn of the Year, looks like… Akamu Kaleo’s Tandile, Killer!”

  Jackson looked at Briggs, who hadn’t bothered to clap and had a scowl set deep in the wrinkles of his face. Akamu’s Tandile had been Jackson’s for the taking when the two young tamers had crossed paths at a Djinn Preserve just a handful of months back. In a moment of pity, Jackson had elected to take Scrappy instead of the Tandile, and Akamu had promptly sniped the Tandile up from beneath Jackson’s nose. Although Scrappy had gone on to beat the Tandile in the Bronze League Training Camp roster battle, Akamu had used the Tandile to lethal effect throughout the season. The fact that it was now winning an award stirred up all of the previous bad feelings and doubts, even though Jackson wouldn’t have traded Scrappy for any other Djinn out there, Killer included.

  Akamu sauntered up to the stage and gave a short thanks, all big smiles. He’d certainly gotten better at faking humility and holding back on his natural aggression in the months since Jackson beat him in Training Camp.

  “I wonder if…should I?” Akamu asked the emcee as an afterthought before stepping off the stage.

  Okay, maybe not so much on the humility, Jackson thought.

  Akamu gave the crowd a wink and a scattering of laughter filled the room. None of it came from the tables of older tamers. Before Valerie could answer, Akamu gave a last wave to the cameras and made his exit.

  Valerie straightened her ruby red evening gown and cleared her throat. “I think we can all argue the Kaleo family doesn’t lack confidence. Anyhow, we’re down to our second to last award of the night, and perhaps the one most indicative of a truly talented tamer who cares deeply about the bond with his or her Djinn. And here are the nominees f
or Best Tamer-Djinn Duo of the Year!”

  Jackson watched as the nominees and their selected Djinn — including he and Asena — flashed across the scene. As long as it’s not Akamu, as long as it’s not Akamu…

  “And the winner is… Jackson Hunt and his Lyote, Asena!”

  It took Jackson a long moment to realize he’d heard right. Fiona, Briggs, and Vance all looked his way. Briggs nodded, clapped and smacked Jackson on the back so hard he almost fell standing on shaky legs out of his chair. Vance whistled and cheered louder than anyone. And Fiona…Jackson wouldn’t have believed it, but he saw a small smile on Fiona as she stood to applaud.

  Somehow, Jackson made his way to the stage. The light was intense and he wasn’t sure where to look or what to do. He was vaguely aware of a video montage of scenes featuring he and Asena playing on all of the screens. Valerie pressed the award into his hands, a crystal in the shape of the DBL shield attached to a pedestal.

  “Well, Jackson, you’re a handsome young man but I think we’d like to see Asena as well!”

  A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. Jackson grinned and summoned Asena from her ring with a flourish. She appeared in a flash of vermillion light and wagged her tail, soaking up the attention. Valerie looked at Jackson expectantly and then tipped her head toward the mic.

  Jackson stepped forward, flexing his feet to keep his legs from shaking. He’d idly prepared a vanilla acceptance speech as more of a daydream than anything when he saw he’d been nominated, and he tried to focus on remembering what it had included.

  “There are a lot of people who helped me — us — get here and win this award tonight,” Jackson said. His voice grew steadier with each passing word and he felt a rush of adrenaline giving him confidence. “My grandma, Jane Hunt, my incredible rehabber, Kay — sorry, Kendal Watts — my amazing coach, Cassius Briggs —” Jackson pointed to their table “— and, just as important, every tamer and Djinn we have faced that made us better. But most of all, I want to thank the person that started it all.”