Rivals

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  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 per
haps 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.

  “Good morning, tamers,” the camp director said, “and welcome to the morning of the final challenge here at camp. As before, we have randomly inserted all of your names into a drawing and will use this process to select the order of tamers to compete in the obstacle course. No one can see what is on the course and parts of it are changed randomly for each new challenger. When you have completed the course, you will be escorted into the main camp headquarters until every tamer is finished. There, the final times and last camp ranking will be assigned. Forty of you will go home and twenty of you will prepare for the camp tournament.”

  Nobody really said anything. They all knew the stakes.

  “Right then,” the camp director said. “Let’s begin!”

  Jackson’s stomach clenched together as if in a vice. The sudden onset of nerves wasn’t entirely surprising but he’d been proud of how he’d managed his emotions throughout the morning. He felt his heart quicken as the screen begin to spin, selecting the first tamer to enter the maze.

  “Looks like…Miguel Sansez!”

  The Barrack 4 tamers looked at Miguel. He looked like he might throw up. As he ushered by, each of Jackson’s barrack mates wished him good luck.

  “Don’t choke, Sansez,” Akamu said. “You’ve managed to defy the odds and last this long — no reason to get beat out until I cream you in the tournament.”

  Jackson shot Akamu a dirty look but he didn’t notice it. “You’ll be fine,” Jackson told Miguel. “Represent!”

  Miguel made his way to the end of their row of chairs to the camp staff standing on either side of the archway. Coach Vanova waited there as well. She asked him if he was ready and, after a short nod and one last nervous glance back at the crowd, Miguel disappeared into the obstacle course.

  Unlike last time during the maze, a large clock on the fieldhouse wall to Jackson’s right displayed Miguel’s time. Of course, without any way of knowing what Miguel would be facing or how he would be scored on the obstacles, the time portion would only be a piece of his overall score. Still, Jackson was surprised when the buzzer sounded out after twelve minutes. For what looked to lie ahead behind the looming portable walls, it seemed like a decent time.

  After a few runs, it looked like twelves minutes was about the average time to complete the obstacle course — around the same time as it took close to complete the maze. Because of the walls and the lack of sounds, there was no way of knowing what might be inside, but Jackson grew more nervous with each passing tamer that went ahead of him. After Miguel, Lucia, and Hayden, Akamu was finally called up.

  “In case I don’t see any of you losers later, peace out,” Akamu said with a smirk. Appleby, Fiona, Jackson, and Moto said nothing as Akamu turned away and strutted underneath the archway. His coach, a woman whom Jackson guessed was paid a very large sum by the Kaleos to put up with their son, waited for him under the archway. Whatever advice she tried to give him, Akamu looked to have ignored.

  As soon as Akamu disappeared across the threshold and his clock began, Jackson enjoyed every passing second. He secretly hoped Akamu would make some huge mistake, but his hopes were dashed when the buzzer sounded at ten minutes and fifteen seconds.

  “How is a total tool like that so good at taming?” Appleby asked, clearly irritated by the results.

  “It’s because his Djinn are almost as big of jerks as he is,” Fiona said. “They might not get along all that way, but they can relate to each other.”

  Although Jackson would have loved to join in on the argument, he couldn’t help but notice Moto Rine sitting a couple chairs down from them, staring at the floor.

  “Is, uh, everything okay, Moto?” Jackson asked. She didn’t look nervous exactly, just completely spaced out.

  It took Moto a long pause and another question before she realized Jackson was talking to her.

  “What? Oh, yeah. All good. Exactly where I want to be.”

  Her answer sounded like she was half asleep and before Jackson could ask anything else she resumed her stare at the turf field in front of her feet.

  “Do you think she’s on something?” Appleby asked in a loud whisper that Moto would have definitely heard if she hadn’t been so zoned out.

  Fiona and Jackson shushed him, but Moto didn’t seem to notice.

  “She definitely been acting odd since the challenge,” Fiona said. “Maybe the stress is getting to her — it can’t be easy being the daughter of the Rines.”

  As more tamers from the Barracks 2, 6, and 8 were called up, Jackson, Fiona, and Appleby sat in silence. Jackson soon became lost in his own thoughts and realized it was the first time the three of them had been alone — Moto didn’t really seem to count — since the Vance McAllister tournament. He hoped with all his heart that the outcome would be different this time around.

  Soon, only twenty or so tamers remained. Moto, Fiona, and Appleby were all called ahead of Jackson, posting times of ten minutes, ten and a half minutes and eleven minutes and fifteen seconds respectively.

  Jackson felt the pressure welling inside of him. By his calculations, he’d have to finish the course in at least eleven minutes flat, in addition to scoring well with each of the obstacles as well. The time ticked by and soon there were just over a dozen tamers left.

  “Jackson Hunt, you’re up next!”

  Jackson stood and his legs threatened to buckle underneath him. His stomach churned and his mouth felt dry. When he took a step, it was almost like he was walking in someone else’s body or his weight had suddenly been halved. Somehow, he made it up to the archway, clammy fingers digging into his palm to prevent them from shaking.

  “You’ve got this, kid,” Briggs said, clasping Jackson on his shoulder. “You know I’m not one to fill you full of BS — this course is yours for the taking. We’re in this.”

  There seemed to be more Briggs wanted to say — all of the coaches had been allowed to observe the course throughout the day — but of course, he wasn’t allowed to give away any secrets. Jackson nodded. Briggs gave him one more clap on the back.

  At the arch, Coach Vanova was waiting for him. “You know, Hunt,” she said, “I didn’t think you were up to the challenge when we started camp. But I’m happy to say I was wrong. No reason to be nervous. Get out there and get it done.”

  The surprising and unexpected vote of confidence lifted Jackson’s spirits a little. He thanked the Barrack 4 coach and then let out a long sigh. Stepping up to the line, he bounced back and forth on each foot in an effort to pump himself up. Both Djinn rings let out a small pulse of light and warmth, as if Asena and Scrappy were giving him their support as well.

  “The time starts as soon as you cross the line,” Vanova said. “Good luck.”

  For the briefest of moments, Jackson felt frozen in place. Then a sudden calm came over him, and he stepped across the starting line.

  CHAPTER 26

  A horn sounded and Jackson let loose both of his Djin
n while running full speed ahead. He soon hit a ramp and continued up onto a platform about ten feet off the ground. The first trial appeared immediately, a series of tilted platforms spaced intermittently between one another above a long pool of water.

  Jackson and Asena skidded to a halt at the end of the platform while Scrappy flapped overhead. Although he couldn’t see it, Jackson could almost feel the clock ticking inside of his head. It was clear he wasn’t supposed to fall into the water, but no one had warned him about any penalties if he messed up on the obstacles.

  Deciding to seize the moment, Jackson leaped and landed on all fours on the first platform. It started to tilt and buck wildly, but he focused on the one ahead that was completely steady. Jackson took only enough time to gather his feet underneath him before jumping to the next tilted platform.

  The second platform tilted like it was on a hinge and went completely vertical. Only Jackson’s reflexes and strength kept him from falling off. Muscles straining, he glanced back and saw Asena pacing back and forth at the edge of the main platform, watching him in distress. He also saw the first of the smaller platforms he’d jumped on and an idea came to his mind.

  “Asena, jump!”

  Jackson shouted the words, too busy focusing on not falling in the water to send Asena a mental command. Asena sprang to Jackson’s bidding at once and landed on the platform. As soon as her weight was on it, Jackson’s platform began to level out. When it finally reached a flat enough angle, he let go of his death grip and laid on the platform to catch his breath.

  His break proved to be short-lived. A moment later, both he and Asena’s platforms started trembling again. Panic set in once more and Jackson looked ahead at the remaining to platforms between them and the other side. Another idea came to him and he mentally commanded Scrappy to fly ahead and land on the platform in front of him. The bird complied at once and, although he hardly weighed more than a pair of shoes, Scrappy’s weight caused the platforms to cease moving.