Zed: A Wizard's abuse of magic

by Peter Rendell

Zed was not blessed with long life like Merlin Parnassus but, by using the magic of a ring of Gaia, he had avoided his ‘Day of Reckoning’. With the ring held by Zed and a pregnant woman at 26 weeks term, Zed’s spirit moved into the new baby, his memories were saved in the ring, and his old body died.
The Zoe family arrived in Havana, Cuba, in 1600AD. Their large villa, the Villa Zenith, was south-west of the city; some people might call it a ranch. Zed was born, at home, on the 2nd of May 1610AD. The midwife was a sister from the local Abbey.
Zed acquired the ring, in 1640AD; he was a lawyer, and the ring was a bribe to lose a case. Zed mistook the runes as hallmarks. He had a momentary thought, ‘I could wear it if it was bigger’. The ring expanded between thumb and forefinger, doubling its size. ‘Now, you are joking. I meant just enough to fit my middle finger’. Zed put the ring on; it shrank to fit and wouldn’t go past the knuckle. ‘It couldn’t harm him, could it?’
***
ZED had several strange dreams over the next few months; all were trying to convince him that Real-Magic existed. He tried to replay the memories of the fateful day that he had put the ring on. During a massage, his mind focused on the ring:
‘Let the ring expand.’
The ring expanded and fell off ZED’s finger onto a tiled floor. The ping was clearly heard; the masseuse picked up the ring and gave it back to ZED. In a moment of clarity, ZED realized that the ring had expanded; it had changed size only when he had been thinking about it; it must be Real-Magic!
***
After retiring for the night, ZED looked at his ring and thought:
‘what are you?’
‘Close enough. The question should have been ‘who are you?’ now, are you going to speak to me properly?’
‘But of course. I had no idea that you were sentient.’
‘Strictly speaking, no. The ring is just a magic ring containing permanent magic-essence that is programmed for many tasks. You might say I am an “artificial intelligence”.’
‘Do you have a name?’
‘Call me, Rezi.’
‘Ok, Rezi. Tell me your history.’
‘I am the fourth of 5 rings made in Sparta in 500BC. A merchant carried us to the Oracle of Delphi, where we were blessed by Gaia. Each ring was loaded with permanent magic-essence that was dedicated to serving the ring bearer. We were empowered with the knowledge of Real-Magic. Gaia’s intention was to create leaders who could educate and protect the Earth. Man is self-destructive, and Gaia needs agents who could go out and repair the damage.’
Rezi paused for a moment to allow Zed to consider the information.
‘Continue.’
‘Worship was not required, and so Gaia was soon forgotten. Teachers were required to pass on the knowledge of Gaia. The rings were kept by the Oracle when they were intended to be held by the champions. The faith in Gaia was soon replaced by the Worship of Apollo and Athena. Eventually, Christianity became the preferred religion. In 392AD, the Oracle screamed “Flee, take the rings to the four winds” and we left immediately. Aelius and Alexis carried me to Sicily. After the wedding, I was morphed into a signet ring. In 400AD, they took me to Genoa in North Italy. I was passed down the male line of each generation of Aelius. In 1000AD, I was handed to the Columbus family. I was given to Christopher Columbus on his 21st birthday in 1472AD. Twenty years later, he took me to Hispaniola. In 1600AD, I was brought here to Havana.’
‘Were all your owners, magic users?’
‘No. The Aelius family were scribes, and the Columbus family were navigators. The teaching of magic declined. Within a hundred years, my magic lay dormant.’
‘Can you teach me?’
‘Yes. I could have taught any of my previous owners, but they lacked the imagination to ask.
‘Thank you.’

105 pages, ebook

Published June 25, 2020

About the author

My formative years were spent in the City of Bath, Somerset in the United Kingdom. I spent many evenings at the roller-skating rink watching pop-groups such as 'the Small Faces', 'the Yardbirds', 'the Trogs' and many more. Those were the sixties, the days of the Mods and Rockers, where the Rockers did nasty things with motorcycle chains to the scooter-riding Mods. One Mod needed fifty stitches around his head, and these were my elders!?

I emerged from college in Middlesbrough, Yorkshire, as a computer programmer working for the local council. Living in a one-up-one-down bedsit on a modest budget, I would spend the weekends walking the town, window shopping. The highlight of the year was the biannual fair, where I became friendly with the roustabouts. I spent most of my evenings at the Paratrooper, a canted wheel with hanging chairs and parachute covers that looked like umbrellas. After a few days, I was inside the fence surrounding the ride; it was very flattering as I was a bit skinny for a roustabout.

Two girls were trying to get my attention; one had jet-black hair to the middle of her back; she was as shy as I am. It was a couple of days before I put my hands around her waist and thought 'I am not letting this one get away'. A 'Rose' by name and a rose by nature. Rose had connections to the fair that even she did not know about. No one charged us for a ride. We rode the Waltzers until I was sick.

The Waltzers were popular in British and Irish fairs. It had a central control cabin with just enough room for a control desk and a single person; windows on all sides gave a clear view of the action. The main floor of the ride rotates around the control cabin. The floor consisted of many segments, supported by limbs beneath that ran on rails. The rail system made the floor rise and fall in an undulating wave. A hump on one side of the ride kicked the floor into the air. A car was mounted on each section of the floor segment. The base of the car was circular; it had a hard leather seat and back running the full length of a semi-circle; it was surprisingly comfortable. A kidney-shaped chrome bar, attached to the front of the car, was pushed down in front of the riders. The car was attached to the floor of the ride by a pivot at the edge of the circle. The offset weight of the riders caused the car to spin. Roustabouts would ride the floor, adding spin to the cars with devilish glee. They took great pleasure in spinning our chair as fast as they could, watching me go green in the process and scream like a little girl.

Rose dragged me back for further punishment; the Waltzers was her favourite ride. When I tried to pay, it was always the same response 'No guv; this lady is Boss Morgan's great, great, great-granddaughter. No one will charge her for anything. Her family features are unmistakable. Treat her right because she comes from a long line of prize-fighters; hard men who fought with bare knuckles. You can assume that she has a vicious right hook.'

After twelve years in permanent employment, I lost my job through a disagreement with my boss; it was a point of principle. To leave your job, without another in place, is a rash decision when you have a wife and two children to look after. I apologised to Rose for my arrogance and promised to accept whatever came through the door, permanent employment, or a freelance contract.

I had loved my job in 'Systems Designers', one of the best software houses in the UK. They had sent me to British Telecom's Research Centre at Martlesham Heath near Ipswich. Travelling and expenses became the thorn of my existence; Manchester to Ipswich was a long trip, five hours at best. I began thinking about freelancing. The last negotiation with the boss about expenses was doomed to fail.

In June 1981, I entered the world of the computer contractor; my first contract was in Antwerp in Belgium. The early days in a new city