Rivals

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  He smiled. It wasn’t perfect, but it at least seemed to fill that gaping hole just a bit. What’s more is that this camp really seemed to be doing amazing work with their Bond. Despite only owning him for just over a month, their Bond was nearly at Asena levels, which could only be good thing (though his relationship with Scrappy seemed to drag his own Bond with Asena down the slightest bit, which was disheartening).

  “What are you smirking at?” Briggs said. “Need I remind you that your Djinn are no closer to working together? A level up ain’t going to save you from that.”

  Jackson’s smirk dissipated. “Back to your rings, guys,” he said in a flat voice. He held out his hands and the vermillion and gray lights absorbed the two Djinn. He’d have to get them over to the care center after that one — Briggs and Midnight had really pushed them to the limit.

  “The blinders were a good idea but they’re not going to allow them in the maze or actual competition,” Briggs said. He walked over and Midnight fell in step beside him. The Hurricanther shot Jackson with what could only be called a haughty, proud look. When Briggs stopped, Midnight sat down on his back legs and proceeded to lick his paws as if to say the fight hadn’t done anything more than give him cause for a bath.

  “But they almost made it through an entire battle,” Jackson said, trying to be optimistic.

  Briggs scoffed. Optimism rolled off of him like Asena and Scrappy’s attacks rolled off of his Djinn. “I’m telling you, you better get it figured out kid. The blinders are just a temporary solution.”

  “I thought you said not to worry about it? Jackson said. “That it just takes time and effort. Aren’t you supposed to help with this kind of thing? You’re my home coach and mentor, after all.”

  Briggs fixed him with a long, flat stare that was anything but inspiring. “I told you right after you caught that Magglecaw that there’s some things you can’t train or fix. That Djinn is a troublemaker. And worse, it’s a troublemaker with a power ceiling.”

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed. Sometimes he hated how volatile Briggs could be. One day, he’d tell Jackson there was nothing to worry about and that they’re doing all they can, and the next it was the end of the world and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  “Speaking of trouble!”

  A new but unmistakable voice echoed across the private sparring room Jackson and Briggs had been training in. Jackson’s stomach did a somersault. Fiona and Vance McAllister were crossing the room toward them.

  It was the first time Jackson had seen the pair together up-close. He knew Vance had been training hard with Fiona and had spotted them across camp a couple of times, but had never actually spoken to the duo. Jackson saw Fiona every morning and evening, of course, but hadn’t spoken to Vance since after his big loss at the invitational where he gave Jackson some encouraging words.

  McAllister wore a smug expression on his rugged, handsome face. Thousands of fans followed the celebrity tamer for his looks alone, but there was no doubt Vance could back up his fame with actual skill on the battlefield.

  “How the hell are ya, Briggsy?” Vance crossed the sparring room with an easy swagger that came off more like a predator Djinn than the cocky strut Akamu loved. He spoke with a drawl that, had it come from anyone else would’ve sounded backwoods. Somehow, McAllister made it sound dashing. “By the Djinn, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  Judging by the expression on Briggs’s face, it hadn’t been long enough. “I suppose so.”

  Vance didn’t seem at all fazed by the cool welcome although Jackson highly doubted it had gone over his head. “To think we’d end up back together here at Bronze League Training Camp. What a life, eh?”

  “Yeah, what a life.” Briggs jerked his head toward Jackson, who wasted no time joining his mentor on the way to the door. But Vance was having none of it.

  “How are ya, Jackson?” he asked. “I was glad to hear you made it into camp — should be some good competition for Fiona here.”

  Jackson glanced at Fiona, who didn’t seem to know what to do and, in a rare show of awkwardness, was focusing on the ground in front of her.

  “I have to say, I was surprised to hear you’d gotten this old fossil out of retirement,” Vance said. “Thought I sent him packing with his tail between his legs, eh, Briggsy?”

  Vance chortled and Briggs gave him the smallest frozen smile. “Something like that.”

  Fiona’s coach clapped his hands together and Jackson fought down a start. Vance then rubbed his hands like he was sitting down for a meal after fasting for several hours. “Tell ya what — why don’t we give the kids here a little taste of the big leagues, eh? Show ’em how we used to rumble in the Gold League.”

  Jackson waited for Briggs’s reaction. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to see these two legends go toe-to-toe with one another. But much to his disappointment, Briggs only shook his head. “Afraid not, Vance. I don’t have the team anymore to give you a go.”

  Vance raised his hands and played with the rings on his right hand. Jackson gaped. He had a ring on every finger — each ring being a different Djinn. He’d seen it on the holo before, but witnessing that much power and command in one tamer was still astonishing in person.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Vance said. “How about a little one-on-one? First one to knockout.”

  Jackson could see Briggs was visibly torn. Vance must have noticed it as well, because his lips curled into a mischievous smile and he switched tactics.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t lose too bad in front of young Jackson here. We can’t have him losing confidence in his washed-up coach.”

  But it seemed to have the opposite effect. Briggs shook his head and his mind appeared made up. “Maybe another time, Vance. Let’s go, Jackson.”

  Jackson tried to hide his disappointment and trailed after Briggs. He averted his eyes from both Vance and Fiona and felt like somehow he’d lost even though there hadn’t been a battle.

  They’d almost made it to the door when a blast of sickly green energy shot past Jackson’s head and materialized into a gigantic serpentine Djinn just in front of Briggs a moment later. The Djinn hissed and reared up. Jackson shouted. He raised his hand, forgetting both Asena and Scrappy were low on health in stasis, but before he could attempt to summon either of them, Briggs hand shot up in a flash. A beam of deep blue light hit the serpent in the face, and when the energy faded, Midnight crouched in front of his tamer, ready to fight.

  From behind them, Vance laughed like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “I knew those reflexes would kick in, Briggsy! Valkariss, attack!”

  As the two Djinn began a lightning face dance of attack and counterattack, Jackson raised his Djinncyclopedia, heart pounding.

  Djinn: Serpoison

  Element: Earth

  Serpoison is an Elite-Form, Earth-Elemental Djinn. Due to its poisonous fangs, Serpoisons are one of the more dangerous species of Djinn in the wild. Their venomous bites can prove debilitating in minutes and lethal in untreated within an hour. As such, tamers facing Serpoison in battle must use extreme caution and have their Djinn treated immediately if a bite occurs.

  “Whoa.” Jackson whispered under his breath. It was only the second time he’d ever seen an Elite-Form Djinn in person — the first being Midnight — and the sight was majestic to behold. The Serpoison had red and gold scales running the length of its entire body, which was bigger around than almost two of Jackson’s torsos. Its long, pale fangs curved like twin swords and dripped venom whenever it hissed. Yellow eyes bored into Midnight, threatening to trap him in a paralyzing stare if the Hurricanther didn’t move fast enough.

  The first few exchanges were purely physical, Plain-Elemental moves. The Serpoison lunged and twisted to trap Midnight while the Hurricanther screamed its defiance and swiped its massive paws at its opponent’s lunges. Whenever it seemed like Midnight had no escape, the lithe Djinn managed to dart out of the Serpoison’s entang
ling grasp.

  All at once, the Serpoison shot straight up in the air and dove right back down like a swimmer into a pool. Its head struck the ground and it disappeared into the earth, sending ripples of shockwaves in its wake. The rolling ground shook the entire sparring room and Midnight took the attack full on. The Hurricanther rolled and bucked against the tremors and just managed to dodge out of the way as the Serpoison’s head burst from the group, a whisker’s length from where Midnight had been lying a moment before.

  But Briggs was ready. Midnight screamed, the sound raising bumps on Jackson’s arms. A torrent of water burst from the Hurricanther’s mouth, accompanied by gale-force winds. The attack struck the Serpoison right in the center of its body and flung it across the chamber. Before the Djinn could disentangle itself from the knotted heap it landed in, Midnight charged forward and sank his own formidable fangs into the Serpoison, right below its head.

  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 21

  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, howe
ver, 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 DBL 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.