Djinn Tamer: Starter: A Monster Battling GameLit Adventure (Djinn Tamer - Bronze League Book 1)

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  Half an hour later, Fiona returned, bearing an unexpected frown. Jackson felt his stomach lurch. Had she been caught?

  “Apparently there’s a legal fail-safe in the system,” Fiona said. “I need her license number in order to give a clean bill of health. I can’t believe I didn’t even know that. I guess I’ve never had to deal with someone trying to get one without a license before.”

  Jackson cursed under his breath.

  “Maybe it’s for the best,” Fiona said. “You said you were getting a license anyway, right? Get me that number and I’ll look over Asena properly. And I’ll make sure my parents don’t find out. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Jackson said.

  “But promise me that you won’t treat this as just an act of goodwill on my part. I want you at your best. Promise you won’t ease up on your training until the tournament is over. Got it?”

  “I promise.”

  “Now get that license already.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jackson sighed and sat down in the lobby of the Djinn Licensing Office. Despite the bottle of water he kept on-hand, his mouth had been dry all morning. It was almost as if his body was telling him what he was doing was wrong. Illegally registered a Djinn as a minor? It was a goal that seemed doomed to fail.

  But he had to at least try.

  He wasn’t the only one here. The lobby was filled with day-laborers, single mothers, and folks from pretty much every walk of life. It reminded Jackson of when he’d applied for his driver’s license two years before. Maybe by the time the clerk got to him, they’d be too worn out to notice he hadn’t brought his guardian?

  “Number forty-three!” the voice called out from the speakers overhead. “Please make your way to Window Number Five”

  Jackson’s body tensed up. He’d hardly had a chance to even sit down. He almost wished that he hadn’t signed up ahead of time online. At least then, he would’ve had time to mentally prepare himself. Taking another deep breath, he stood and made his way to the clerk window.

  He was greeted by an overweight, middle-aged woman with an unsightly mole on her forehead.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to register my Djinn. It’s a L —”

  “Do you have the paperwork filled out and an identification card?”

  “Uh, yeah, I do,” Jackson said, caught slightly off guard. He swung his backpack around and handed her the forms and his ID. He crossed his fingers and hoped she wouldn’t notice his age or lack of a —

  “Is your guardian present?”

  “Uh, no, but I have —”

  “I can’t okay a license to a minor without a guardian present,” the woman said as though she’d repeated it a thousand times before. “Please come back when you have a guardian present or when you are of legal age.”

  “But I have her signature there.”

  “I can’t okay a license to a minor without a guardian present,” the woman repeated. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “I have her ID here with me,” Jackson said, pulling Jane’s license from his back pocket. He had pilfered it earlier that day, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it, but his options were already running thin.

  “I’m sorry, but the guardian needs to be here in-person.”

  Jackson let out an exhausted sigh. He felt the back of his throat begin to close up and a slow panic begin to rise.

  “Is there anything you can do?” Jackson didn’t have to fake the desperation in his voice as he twisted his predicament into a half-truth. “I have less than a month until I’m eighteen, and my grandma couldn’t be here because she’s at work. We have house payments to make, and her job just doesn’t allow her to take time off during business hours.”

  “Please come back when you’re of age, then,” the woman said, unmoved by his excuses.

  “I have a job I’m starting tomorrow,” Jackson said. “I need a licensed Djinn to work it, and if I don’t lock down a paycheck, my grandma and I will be on the streets! Please, it’s just one month. My grandma’s signature and ID are here.”

  The woman let out a sigh. “Look, I can’t make any guarantees, but let’s see what the system even allows me to do. Before we get any further, let’s start with the basics. So Jackson Hunt is your name?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “And this date of birth and ID and accurate?”

  “Yes,” Jackson said.

  The woman’s fingers glided over the holo-keyboard. “And you already have a Lyote registered under your name, correct?”

  Jackson’s shoulders tensed up. “I’m sorry?”

  “A Lyote. Registered by Jessica Hunt under your name six years ago?”

  “Sorry, can I see?”

  The employee turned the screen toward him, and as she said, the Djinn had already been registered under his name.

  “This was…this was six years ago?”

  “Almost to the day, actually.”

  Jackson felt a lump form in his throat. Jessica Hunt had truly left no stone unturned when it came to Jackson’s gift.

  “Sir, are you okay?”

  “What?” Jackson said, his voice almost catching. Without him even realizing it, tears had begun to trickle down his face. He wiped his nose. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Actually, I’m a little bit better than fine.”

  Jackson wasted no time. As promised, he returned to Sato ranch with a copy of his (legally obtained — he was careful to point this out) license, allowing Fiona to give Asena a look-over and an official bill of health from Sato Breeders.

  With those two obstacles now overcome, Jackson approached his training for the McAllister Invitational with renewed vigor.

  In the spare moments he had, Jackson found a surprising sparring partner in Appleby, who had connected with him after seeing his name on the list of contestants (Jackson had completely forgotten he’d given the other tamer his contact info when they first met). Since Appleby only lived one town over, he could ride the train and meet Jackson in the evenings on the outskirts of town. They found a quiet, tucked away place under the cover of the woods and spent a few hours training each night.

  In spite of the overall average status of Appleby’s Moldune, Jackson found himself impressed at his strategy and tactics. He used the Moldune’s dig ability to the fullest extent, and made sure to exploit whatever weaknesses he could find in his opponents. Jackson and Asena lost almost as many times as they won and the training provided Asena with some invaluable experience points leading up to the tournament.

  Jackson thought Appleby was just about the nicest, kindest person he’d ever met. He came from a family without much money like Jackson — except Appleby had five younger siblings that he helped take care of at home. He worked and went to school, saving what money he could to buy a Djinn ring. He’d had his Moldune for a couple of years now but hadn’t been able to get much quality training in until he found the Underground, hence the Djinn’s extremely high bond but low overall level.

  “I’m the first one in my family to be a tamer,” he told Jackson after one of their practice bouts. He tapped his holo-watch “I’ve downloaded every book I could find about taming and Djinn care and read each one at least twice.”

  With anyone but Appleby, the statement would’ve came off as snobbish. But Jackson didn’t think his new training partner had a conceited bone in his body. As much as he hated to admit it, Appleby showed Jackson just how far he had to go himself and how much more dedicated he could — and should — be.

  If he hadn’t seen him in the ring, Jackson would have taken Appleby for a pushover. He knew now not to underestimate the guy, no matter what appearances suggested. It was no mistake that Vance McAllister had invited him.

  It’s with that in mind that Jackson started to rethink his own strategy in terms of DJP allocation. When Asena hit Level 10, he found himself at a crossroads. Should he double down on his Attack-heavy approach, in hopes that it would have the same advantage as the Undergr
ound?

  “I’m honestly not sure what to expect,” Appleby told him when Jackson asked his opinion on the matter. “I’m just as new to this whole thing as you. I can tell you how things eventually roll out in the big leagues, but in a bottom-rung invitational? I’m not sure we can expect any real consistent strategy.”

  That comment hadn’t helped Jackson as much as he’d hoped it would — though he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Even Cassius Briggs had told him there was no wrong way to allocate your DJP, so long as you knew how to use it.

  Jackson rubbed his chin and threw one point into Attack and the other into Speed. If he could manage doing what he did in the Underground against Drill’s armored Gruffoat, he figured he could make it work against anything. Even Fiona.

  Jackson pulled up his stats in admiration. He and Asena had come along way.

  {{{}}}

  GENERAL STATS AND INFO

  Djinn: Lyote

  Level: 10

  Name: Asena

  Element: Fire/Earth

  Species Rarity: Rare

  Tamer: Jackson Hunt

  HP (Hit Points): 187/187

  EP (Elemental Power): 88/88

  XP (Experience): 202 to Next Level

  DJP (Djinn Points): 0 Unallocated

  Attack: 65

  Defense: 34

  Speed: 54

  Accessories: None

  Items: None

  Status: Neutral

  Bond: 65%

  Move Set: Swipe Left to See More >>>

  {{{}}}

  As proud as he was of his accomplishment, it was clear the invitational would be no cakewalk.

  The Underground had its own unique set of rules, but so did “official” Djinn battling — things you didn’t pick up on just from watching countless hours of the sport on the holo-vision. Luckily, Appleby had no qualms about bringing him up to speed. Jackson just hoped he and Asena could make the switch — though given all their nights of training, he didn’t see why not.

  As great as things were on the training front, there was one small raincloud that hovered over his every action: his grandma.

  Jane continued to operate on the assumption that Jackson still devoted extra evenings and weekends to work at Sato. As close as he and his grandma were on most topics, it killed him not to be able to talk to her about Asena and the coming tournament. More than anything, he worried if she’d feel betrayed when he showed up with a wad of cash and a promise of keeping the house. Would it all be worth it?

  But he wasn’t at the end of his lies just yet.

  With the invitational split between a Friday and Saturday, it’d been much trickier than usual to figure out an alibi. Getting a day off from Sato hadn’t been a problem — he’d worked all summer without a break, so asking for those days off was no biggie. The issue came from coming up with a believable story for Jane.

  Jackson did his best to eat with his normal appetite when they sat down for dinner, but the nerves set in and he thought he might barf after each bite. When he finally gave up trying to force-feed himself, he stirred the food around on his plate.

  “Are you even listening?” Jane asked him.

  Jackson looked up. What had she been talking about?

  Sorry,” Jackson said, in a daze. “Hey, Grams — I’m going to be gone for a couple of days for work: all day tomorrow and probably until late Saturday, too. Just wanted you to know.”

  “Oh?” Jane said, taking a sip of water. “You’re staying somewhere overnight”

  That was the kicker. But Jackson had an answer — or at least another lie to toss onto the pile.

  “We’re actually going out of town to Marble to pick up a few breeding Djinn the Satos purchased,” Jackson said. “Me, Kay, and Fiona along with some of the other hands.”

  He promised himself that was the last time he had to be dishonest with her. Even so, it left a bad taste in Jackson’s mouth. He grabbed his plate and rose from the table, but Jane stopped him.

  “Have I told you how proud I am of all this work you’ve put in this summer?” she asked. “I wasn’t sure how things would work out at Satos but I’m glad you’ve matured enough to realize this is a much better way to work with Djinn than being a tamer or an explorer like your mother. You seem to really enjoy it and I’m happy for you.”

  Jackson stood rooted to the spot, overwhelmed. Part of him screamed out to tell Jane everything, to come clean and hope she could see things from his point of view. The other part told him to get the hell out of there before he ratted himself out.

  “What’s that look for?” Jane asked.

  “I…”

  Jackson wished he had the courage to say the words. He really did. It would have been so much better that way, like ripping off a band-aid instead of stretching it out over an excruciating extended period of time. But he didn’t.

  “I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” he said instead. “I’d better get to bed.

  “Oh, all right,” his grandma said. She stood up and gave him a hug. “I love you.”

  If Jane had been paying closer attention, she might have uncovered everything right then, from the Djinn ring beneath Jackson’s shirt to the way his face went pale.

  “I love you too, Grandma.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “You look like crap,” Kay said. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

  “I’m fine,” Jackson said. His voice rang hollow and listless in his ears. “Really — it’s all good.”

  He tried not to think about the coming tournament and what it meant for his and his grandma’s future, but it was a futile effort.

  Jackson clenched his left hand tight, feeling the pressure of the Djinn ring as it dug into his finger. He hunched over the bench like a drunk and wouldn’t have been surprised if he barfed all over the train compartment like one. He took another shuddering breath and the train started to slow. Looking outside, the blurred images sharpened into parks and tall buildings — much taller than those in Tyle. They’d arrived in Cormick. Jackson felt Kay’s hand on his shoulder.

  “We’re here,” he heard her say.

  “Yeah,” Jackson managed to say. “Hey, Kay…thanks for everything. No matter what happens.”

  Kay nodded and flashed one of her shy smiles. “No matter what.”

  The train came to a stop and somehow Jackson lurched to his feet. He felt like his head was wrapped in a bubble as he stepped onto the station: his ears felt muffled, his feet weightless and his vision swam if he focused on one spot more than a few seconds.

  Jackson nodded, as if assuring himself that everything would be okay, but he didn’t feel much better. He gathered his things and tried to make sure he didn’t leave anything in the compartment. In the process, a bolt of realization struck him and he groaned.

  “I left the bill of health at my house!” Jackson said, digging into his pockets. “It must have been in my other pair of pants!”

  “Calm down,” Kay said. “You had to submit everything online, right? I’m pretty sure they have a copy — I bet you won’t even need the printed one.”

  Jackson hoped she was right, but the forgotten document only added to the sickness whirling in his stomach. He’d slept like crap, tossing and turning all night, plagued by vivid half-dreams of his grandma coming into his room and tearing the Djinn ring from the necklace around his neck, among other equally stressful variations. It was only a matter of time before he realized something else he’d forgotten to pack. The unhappy grumbling in his already-upset stomach reminded Jackson, and although he was starving, his nerves wouldn’t allow him to eat anything.

  After a few minutes, the train door hissed shut and the low whir of magnetic energy gathered as it prepared to leave the stop. Jackson watched it pull away and felt his last chance to turn back slip away with it. In some ways it was a comforting feeling. Although Jackson still felt like there was a Gorriloot sitting on his chest. The train’s exit left only one option to take: the McAllister Invitation
al.

  Following the directions on their GPS, Jackson and Kay skirted around the outside of the small city and came to a large, open community park. A handful of banners hanging on the chain-link fences told them they’d found the right place, and a steady stream of eager young trainers and their supporters entered the gates.

  Jackson scanned the area and felt a little bit disappointed. In his head, he’d imagined the invitational to be in a large stadium with thousands of fans crowding the seats. What he saw was a large grass amphitheater with rows of cement seats surrounding a fighting area marked off by paint and a few dozen pop-up shade tents. If the ratio stayed the same, there looked to be almost as many competitors as spectators — not exactly the roaring crowds he’d envisioned.

  “This looks like a glorified track meet,” Kay said, giving voice to Jackson’s thoughts. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of scam? You didn’t have to pay to enter, did you?”

  Jackson ignored the jibe. “Takes notes and pictures,” he said. “This event will go down in league history as the place where my career began.”

  Kay rolled her eyes. “It’s good to see you got a little bit of confidence back. You might want to save it until you actually make it through registration, though.”

  The twisting sensation returned to the pit of Jackson’s stomach. All of his false bravado evaporated with it. “Why’d you have to remind me?”

  “I’m just trying to keep you humble,” Kay shrugged. “You went from zero-to-asshole pretty quickly there.”

  Jackson didn’t know if he’d ever felt more nervous than he did waiting in the registration line. Sure, he’d registered for the Underground matches countless times at this point, but this was a legit tournament. Plus, there was still a part of him that felt this was a big mistake. By the time it was his turn at the registration desk, sweat marks ringed the armpits of his shirt and his clammy hands trembled.

  “Name?” The twenty-something woman sitting in the camp chair didn’t even look up from her tablet.