The Park

“There weren’t always dragons in The Valley. This entire section is wrong. They only added them six months ago,” he mumbled irritably.

“Do you think they’ll let me ride them?”

Ivius looked up at the sound of his daughter’s voice, not really registering what she was saying.

“What was that?” he asked, lowering his tablet so he could look at her.

“I said, do you think they’ll let us ride the dragons? I dream about that a lot.” Ivius smiled, raising his mug to take a sip of coffee.

“I doubt it. The bigger creatures in the park are only for patrons above Class Five. They are too dangerous to allow regular people to ride.” Ifyne made a moue with her lips and went back to eating breakfast. Ivius had fielded a good dozen questions like this daily, ever since he’d started working at the new amusement park, it was getting old.

“But we’re above Class Five, papa,” she pouted. Ivius looked at her long enough that she felt the weight of his displeasure and lowered her head.

“Not while we live here, we aren’t,” he said firmly and then went back to the report. It was a mess. There was little hope of making this acceptable to their patron, no matter how much he changed and left out. There simply was no polite way to say, ‘the damn place shouldn’t exist, and your problems are because you’re doing things that go against the laws of nature.’ It was a double-edged sword. The utter hopelessness of the project was part of the reason he’d taken the job. No one sane would touch it, so if it closed, no one would ask questions when he moved on. But it also meant that he needed to make it look like he was trying to help them succeed if he wanted to collect on the fees promised. Which included helping the workers tasked with reporting to their backers make the facts sound less ‘doomed to failure because of their poor choices’. Like the dragons.

Nothing about The Park should work, but somehow it limped along from season to season. It was almost like The Park itself had grown sentience and survived purely to confound the people tasked with its function. He certainly wasn’t sure how it had lasted as long as it had. Long before he’d arrived, he’d heard weird stories about The Park from the first visitors. And about the accidents. He frowned down at the tablet again and scribbled another line on the parchment. The harnessing magic was still too buggy. In fact, that’s why they’d hired him. He'd done his apprenticeship under the most powerful Wizard of their age, Djedi. Few knew the wizard’s name, but those that did talked of him in hushed tones of awe. Most believed him to be hundreds of years old. Ivius knew that was untrue. Djedi was thousands of years old. For him, time was something that wasn’t important because it couldn’t touch him. Like the Dragons of old, he just is. Djedi was the only known living class ten in the world. Known being the operative word. In any event, the name alone was enough to get him any contract he pleased.

Ivius stared down at the parchment again, made another note, then tossed his quill on the table with the tablet.

“Papa, can I watch the receiver until it’s time to go?” Ifyne asked, rising to take her plate to the basin and clean it before putting it away.

“Are your lessons complete?” Ivius asked, knowing the answer and keeping the smile off his face. Ifyne frowned.

“Transformations are hard. I can calculate the formulas but using them,” she trailed off and Ivius nodded.

“It takes many years to be proficient. I am sure with time you will be adept. But you have to start somewhere. Don’t give up,” he said and smiled. Ifyne nodded and then headed outside to the workshop.

A chiming sound rang through the room and Ivius looked up to see the Speaksi alight on the small table next to his favorite chair. They looked like simple carved wooden boxes but were imbued with simple magic that allowed you to communicate across great distances in real time. The Speaksi could be general or bound to a single user like his. He walked over to it, rubbing his hand over the top, and then spoke the simple words of the activation spell. Moments later, the head and shoulders of The Park owner appeared, hovering over the small wooden cube.

“Maester Ivius, forgive the intrusion.” The rotund man said. The ostentatiously dressed park owner looked as he usually did. He wore his hair separated into three enormous rolls and his beard and mustache curled to the point of comedy.

“Grifton, to what do I owe the honor of this address?” Ivius said, inclining his head slightly.

“I was wondering if you could come in today. It’s the Dragons, they’re just.” The man trailed off and Ivius frowned. Of course it was the dragons, it’s always the dragons. The creatures have human level sentience. Actually, the way he saw it, those dragons were likely smarter than the entire administrative staff of The Park combined. Only someone surpassingly clueless would think it was acceptable and possible to suppress the creature’s natural intelligence for the entertainment of the general population, he thought and shook his head.

“I will have to bring my daughter with me,” he replied, pitching his voice lower to disguise his rising frustration. There was no one to blame but himself. He’d agreed to the contract. It wasn’t their fault that he resented having to take a contract at all.

“Your daughter is always welcome. Such a delightful child. And the power she already wields! She is definitely your get.” Grifton gushed, relief clear in his tone. Ivius wondered just how bad things were.

Two hours later, he stood in the entrance to The Park’s caverns and looked down into the pit. The quartet of dragons, two Firedrakes and two Ice Wyverns strained against their chains as they fought. Housing them in the same pit was their second mistake. Their first was buying and harnessing them at all.

“Maester Ivius! Thank Aja you’ve come!” a small man of about a meter tall rushed out from a side passage. At the sound of his voice, the Firedrakes let out a call that resembled nothing less than a shriek of rage and ceased trying to attack the Wyverns in favor of lunging toward the poor wrangler. The tiny Dweorg squeaked and flushed to the tips of his pointed ears, scurrying out of harm’s way and over to where Ivius stood. Ifyne let out a small gasp as the Firedrakes roared and peeked out from behind her father to look at the raging beasts.

“Oh! Papa, they have ice and fire! They’re so pretty!” Ifyne said, moving from behind him and toward the railing separating them from the pit. The drake roared again and stopped suddenly, sniffing the air as if it had caught an unfamiliar scent. Then the four beasts did something he’d never seen before. They let out little whining sounds and shuddered as if excited and pleased. Ifyne clapped her hands and moved closer, smiling with delight.

“Oh wow! Oh wow! Papa! Look at them! Their faces have feathers!” Ifyne said and Ivius stared between the Dragons and his daughter. It couldn’t be. Aja save him. Adia hadn’t been playing him false. Ivius walked up to stand next to his daughter and frowned down at the pit. The four previously belligerent beasts were now preening and whining to draw Ifyne’s attention. The Dweorg gasped and Ivius turned to give him a hard look before taking his daughter by the hand and leading her down the small ramp to the entrance of the pit.

“What do you feel, Deva?” Ivius asked, forgetting in his surprise and using his pet name for her.

“They like me, want me to come closer. That one,” she said, pointing at the larger firedrake with the purplish feathers about his snout, “wants me to choose only him, but the others just are happy to see us.”

Ivius nodded and stared at the beast for a long moment, remembering his promise and wondering if fate had played more of a part in his choosing this contract over the others when Adia passed. Ivius nodded and then looked at the dragons forcing their gaze to his so they understood he knew. The four fairly shuddered with anticipation and the indistinct sound they made was one of pleasure and fear. The gaze of a worker of his caliber was nothing to trifle with, even for a several thousand-pound draconic wielder of the eternal elements. Ivius kneeled by his daughter and took her chin in his hand to ensure that he had her complete attention.

“Do you remember what your mam said before she transitioned? That you would find the ones who will stand beside you and guide your path?” Ivius asked, and Ifyne’s eyes widened.

“But Dragons only guide those of the blood,” Ifyne said softly, fear and excitement making her tremble. Ivius sighed. His child, only six years old and snared in the grip of destiny. In a playground for the selfish and wealthy—an amusement park. The winds of fate are ever capricious.

“We will speak of it more at home. For now, go introduce yourself properly.” He said and unlatched the gate at the entrance to the pit, watching as his small daughter raced through and eagerly rubbed and kissed the snouts of the fearsome beasts. Beasts who at her hand were purring like well fed kittens rolling about with a skein of wool.

“What manner of sorcery is this?” the Dweorg Alviss said in an almost inaudible tone.

“The kind that will cost you your head should the knowledge of this leave your tongue.” Ivius said, turning to hold the Dweorg hostage with his gaze. After a long moment, the man’s expression cleared and his eyes took on a glassy haze. He couldn’t allow the man to keep the memory of this, no matter the danger of what he had to do.

“Ifyne, come away now. Lock the gate behind you. Tell them you will return so long as they mind their keepers here,” he said and placed his hand on the Dweorg’s shoulder. As soon as Ifyne was standing next to him, and the dragons were sitting quietly locked in the pit below them, he closed his eyes and motioned for Ifyne to take Alviss’ hand.

“You must help me with this, as the memory concerns you. clasp his hand.”

“What are we going to do?” Ifyne said, following his direction.

“We are going to take his memory of this.”

“Won’t it hurt?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“I won't. I know what I am doing. It takes a lot of power to meddle in the mind without leaving some damage behind. It is difficult and dangerous magic. That’s why no one under level six may attempt it.” Ifyne’s eyes widened.

“I have to do it, Deva. What you are is a miracle and if anyone knew, you would be in danger. I will not let that happen.”

“And you can do it without hurting him, right?” she said and smiled.

“That’s right. He won’t even know it happened. We’ll just lift the memory away and replace it with something happy.”

“Like what?”

Ivius frowned a moment, thinking.

“You leave that to me. Now close your eyes so we can begin.”