Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes #10: The Alchemy Of Numbers

This will be the final instalment in the “official” Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes post series, which is only fitting since ten is for completion— Oops, there I go already, getting myself caught up in the alchemy of numbers!

Prince & only son; sword & destiny

At face value, numbers may not be the most obvious trope, but I’m going to argue for their inclusion nonetheless. You remember how we started out with the farm boy or gal who goes on a quest journey, and the prince or princess that finds a destiny? They’re integral to myth and fairytale, folklore and legend, right? Well, think a little bit more about how often the farm boy or gal, the prince or princess, is the only child, or alternatively the youngest (usually the youngest, anyway) of three children…

Prince Ivan — the youngest of three sons

Just for a few examples, the Greek heroes, Perseus, Theseus, and Jason were all only children—or effectively only children, since all Jason’s siblings were murdered when he was a baby. So, too, are the fairytale protagonists Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Jack the Giant Killer. The number three features prominently in both Greek and Norse myth, e.g. the Three Fates and the Three Graces, the three Gorgons and the three goddesses—Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite—who quarrel over the golden apple inscribed, “for the Fairest.” Odin, Thor and Loki are a frequent triumvirate in the Norse myths, while in the fairytale realm, Prince Ivan, Cinderella, and Beauty (in Beauty and the Beast) are just three examples of characters that are the youngest of three children.

Another perennial and recurring aspect of the number three is the “love triangle”, with famous threesomes that include Helen, Menelaus, and Paris; Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere; Tristan, Isolde, and King Mark; Brynhild, Sigurd, and Gudrun… You get the picture! (And that “the triangle” did not spring fully fledged from Twilight and /or paranormal romance generally…)

Morgana and Arthur: MERLIN TV series

If numbers are powerful, then clearly some numbers, such as one and three, are particularly significant. Yet in the song One (most famously sung by Three Dog Night) the lyrics assure us that “Two…[is]…the loneliest number since the number one.” Myth and folklore may bear this assertion out, if we look at the fraught relationships and/or lives of siblings such as King Arthur and his half-sister, Morgana La Fay, or Helen of Troy and her twin sister, Clytemnestra. Snow White and Rose Red have a happier time of it, however, as do Helen and Clytemnestra’s twin brothers, Castor and Pollux, while Hansel and Gretel come through alright, in the the end. (Or as alright as a Grimm’s fairytale allows, at any rate.)

Juliet Marillier’s retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses

One, two, three…But the fun doesn’t stop there. We’ve still got all the multiples of three, such as nine (Tolkien’s “three times three”) as in the Nine Muses, and twelve—for example, the Twelve Dancing Princesses and the Twelve Labours of Hercules. Six and eight (the figure eight or lemniscatus is the symbol for infinity, but let’s not forget eight-legged Sleipnir either) also have their place, and thirteen famously gets a bad press for conveying ill luck. There’s even a name, triskaidekaphobia, for fear of the number thirteen…

The seven dwarfs in Snow White & The Huntsman

If looking for another really significant number, however, it’s impossible to go past seven, which I think most would agree is every bit as famous as three. For example, the seventh child of a seventh child is usually particularly lucky and/or gifted with the second sight. Greek myth gives us the Seven Against Thebes as well as the Seven Sisters that became the Pleiades constellation, while Sinbad went on seven voyages, and the Seven Dwarfs star in the popular and enduring Snow White fairytale.

I believe it’s inarguable that numbers play a significant part in myth, fairytale, and folklore. What’s less clear to me is why. My best guess is that it’s something to do with the human love of patterns, but whatever the reasons, it’s given us a force to be reckoned with.

But Turning to Fantasy—

The first thing I realised when I dived into this topic is that it could easily be a post series in its own right. So to ensure today’s feature does not exceed the Wheel Of Time series for length, I’m going to restrict my commentary to the numbers one, two, three, and seven—by and large at any rate. 😉

(The bonus to this approach is that I *may* yet do further posts on the other numbers, should conditions prove favourable. 😀 )

I know, I know, it’s “The Lord Of The Rings” again…

My second realisation was that when it comes to drawing on the alchemy of numbers to give texture and drama to a story, JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings is da bomb. The One Ring to rule them all is undoubtedly boss, but it’s complemented by three Elven rings, the seven rings given to the Dwarf lords, and the nine given to the human kings that become the dreaded Black Riders. I would rest my case right there, except that I have to also point out the following rhyme:

“Tall ships and tall kings,
Three time three,
What brought they from the foundered land,
Over the flowing sea?
Seven stars and seven stones
And one white tree.”

I mean to say: multiples of three, seven, and the power of one—now I really do rest my LoTR case. 😉

The Power of One

It’s perhaps not surprising, therefore, that the alchemy of numbers is firmly embedded in Fantasy storytelling—and epic fantasy does not escape. In fact, one might argue that a literary subgenre with a predilection for Chosen One’s, actively embraces the significance of numbers.

As well as “Chosen One’s” there are also “hero/heroine alone” protagonists, like Mara of the Acoma (one of my favourites—from Raymond E Feist and Janny Wurts’ Empire trilogy), the paladin, Paksenarrion (Elizabeth Moon: the Deed of Paksennarion), Tenaka Khan in David Gemmell’s The King Beyond The Gate, or Kvothe in Patrick Rothfuss’ The Name Of The Wind.

Remember, too, that Buffy the Slayer was “one girl in all the world”, while in the now cult film, Highlander, famously “there can be only one.” 🙂

Epic fantasy’s love affair with the number one isn’t restricted to chosen heroes either. Very often (although it’s not universal) the Chosen One must oppose an ultimate Big Bad, such as Sauron in The Lord of the Rings, Rakoth Maugrim (in the Fionavar trilogy), Torak in the Belgariad, or The Dark One in the Wheel of Time series.

“Two Is Just As Bad As One…” (Or in this case, as significant.)

The more I think about it, the more I realise that two is a vital part of epic alchemy. Its aspects include oppositions, such as (arguably) saidin and saidar in Robert Jordan’s Wheel Of Time series, and outright hatreds like the bitter antagonism between Bertran de Talair and Urte de Miraval that shapes the world of Guy Gavriel Kay’s A Song for Arbonne.

The power of two also comprises complementaries, like the Prime and Secchi (father and daughter) Pairs in Roberta Gray’s The Sword And The Lion, the Aes Sedai and their Warders in the Wheel Of Time, and the wizards and their sources in Guy Gavriel Kay’s Fionavar trilogy.

Two encompasses dualities as well, such as the relationship between Morgon and Deth, in Patricia McKillip’s The Riddlemaster of Hed trilogy. The duality is set up in the opening chapter with the rhyme of Belu and Bilo:

“Belu so fair was born with the dark
Bilo, the dark; death bound them also.
…
Death cried to Bilo out of Belu’s voice,
To Belu, out of Bilo…”

And is finally realised by both story and reader at the culmination of Book Three—which is truly awesome storytelling imho. (Just sayin’)

Fred and George Weasley (Deathly Hallows)

Twins also have their part to play, such as Oponn, the twin jesters of chance in the Malazan series, and the Weasley brothers in Harry Potter—who are also jesters, come to think of it. 😉
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And then of course there’s true love and some truly epic couples. Some of my favourites include Karou-Madrigal and Akiva in Laini Taylor’s Daughter of Smoke and Bone and Beren and Luthien from Tolkien’s Silmarillion.
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Then there’sShoka and Taizu in CJ Cherryh’s The Paladin; Jenny Waynest and John Aversin in Barbara Hambly’s Dragonsbane, Diago and Miguel from Teresa Frohock’s Los Nefilim… There are many more, so I could go on, but I won’t. 😉 However, two is unquestionably the number of power couples.

Mystical Magical Three

If I recall correctly, the first Diana Wynne Jones’ novel I read was Power of Three and—unsurprisingly—combinations of three, not least the three peoples around which the story is spun, play a significant part in the narrative. Morgon of Hed, in the Riddlemaster series, has three stars on his forehead and must master three treasures that carry the same stars, while Daenerys Targaryen in George RR Martin’s A Song Of Ice and Fire series (aka A Game Of Thrones) is accompanied by three dragons. The defence of Dros Delnoch in David Gemmell’s Legend is primarily down to the triumvirate of Druss (the eponymous Legend), Rek, and Serbitar—who leads The Thirty, an order of paladin-mages. And thirty, of course, is another multiple of three…

NK Jemisin’s Inheritance trilogy centres on the triangle of Yeine, Nahadoth, and Itempas, while the conclusion of Courtney Schafer’s Shattered Sigil series is shaped by the three-sided relationship of Dev, Cara, and Kiran.

Arguably, though, the most potent aspect of three in epic fantasy is the trilogy, even if it has become somewhat less ubiquitous since the advent of the Wheel of Time. 😉

Superlative Seven

I don’t think it’s possible to bracket the number seven and epic fantasy together without mentioning the book Seventh Son, which began Orson Scott Card’s Alvin Maker series. The series is set in the pioneering United States, in the first half of the nineteenth century, and draws on the history and folklore of the era, including the mystical lore of seventh-born sons.

Seven is also the theme of John R Fultz’s Shaper trilogy, which comprises Seven Princes, Seven Kings, and Seven Sorcerers. A legendary king and his six brothers form The Seven-Petalled Shield in Deborah J Ross’s series of the same name—while in Juliet Marillier’s Daughter of the Forest (the first in her Sevenwaters series), it is Sorcha, the seventh and youngest child, who must save her six brothers from the enchantment that transforms them into swans.

Pippin with the tree & stars of Gondor on his surcote

I’ve already mentioned the seven rings of power given to the dwarf kings in The Lord of the Rings, as well as the palantir, which are the “seven stones” of the rhyme, and the “seven stars”, which together with the “one white tree” are the symbol of the kings and kingdom of Gondor.

Other signficant sevens include the seven seals to Shaitan’s prison in the Wheel Of Time, the seven unified kingdoms in the Westeros of the A Song Of Ice and Fire series, the Seven Cities in Steven Erikson’s Malazan world, and seven horcruxes in Harry Potter—to name just a few!

Now, Onward To Thornspell and The Wall Of Night Series…

The numerical alchemy in Thornspell is centered on the numbers one and two, although I would describe the protagonist, Sigismund, as a “muted” power-of-one figure. Although those in the know, both enemies and friends, recognise that he may be the prince who will attempt to break the spell of the Hundred-Years-Sleep, he is not a Chosen One of long-foretold prophecy in the same way Malian is in The Wall Of Night series.

Dynamic duos and power pairings are really significant to the story, though, with the chief examples being the complementary mentor/”padawan” relationship of Sigismund and Balisan, which is counterbalanced by a similar relationship between the two antagonists, the Margravine and Flor. Sigismund and the Margravine are the primary antagonists, but the opposition between Sigismund and Flor is counterbalanced by the friendship of Sigismund and Rue. Other noteworthy duos in the story are the servants, Wat and Wenceslas, the noble kinsmen, Adrian and Ban Valensar, and the horse copers, Falk and Rafe.

In a way, these pairs reflect the two significant dualities that underpin the story, which are the sleeping world within the hedge of thorns and the waking world without, and the opposition between the human world and the faery realm.

USA

As indicated above, The Wall of Night story is centered on Malian being a Chosen One of prophecy, while Kalan’s path is also entwined with an ancient destiny. So the power-of-one tradition is definitely in play. Two also has a part to play, if not so strongly as in Thornspell. Malian and Kalan’s complementary relationship is definitely at the core of the story, while the Derai leadership of Earl and Heirs is a complementary pairing.

UK/AU/NZ

In terms of duality, its hard to go past the heralds of the Guild, with pairs comprising a “seeker” and “shielder” who often speak with one voice. But there’s also the Huntmaster and his crow, the tapestry of the Young Lovers in Daughter Of Blood, and Asantir’s black blades are paired blades…

USA

When it comes to three, the helmet, sword, and shield of Yorindesarinen are very much in keeping with time-honored tradition, although the role of the armring plays with the formula a little. The Darksworn have three ascendants, while the Derai make a strong “three times three” showing with Nine Houses, Nine Gods, and nine aspects of the Golden Fire. Kalan uses a “power of three” magical working in The Heir of Night and three Ara-fyr speak to Malian from the top of the solitary tower in Aralorn. There’s even a romantic triangle(!) in The Gathering of the Lost, between Audin, Ghiselaine, and Hirluin.

UK/AU/NZ

Seven comes into its own in The Gathering Of The Lost as well, with the introduction of Jhainarian sevens, fighting units bound together and strengthened by magic. The heralds undertake a magical working based on seven adepts, too, in defense of the Hill fort. And although we’re not focusing on eight in this post, the heralds undertook another working, based on this number, in The Heir of Night. You may have noticed, too, that an “eight” is the base unit of the Derai military.

USA

You may be wondering if there’s any particular numerical alchemy present in Daughter of Blood. By way of answer, I point to the thirteen wyr hounds that broke free of the Red Keep to accompany Kalan into no-mans-land. I also note that Asantir’s paired swords make another strong showing and form a triumvirate with a black spear…

UK/AU/NZ

And that, I feel, is quite enough to be going on with when it comes to the alchemy of numbers. I hope it makes a satisfying conclusion to the Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes series.

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Next Time: Next Monday I’ll post a roundup of all ten instalments in the Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes series to date, possibly with a few accompanying comments. But we’re not quite done. Shortly after that I’ll be back with a post looking at instances where the tropes are subverted, which I hope you’ll also find fun. And then (just to be mysterious) there’ll be one more post after that before the final curtain comes down…(If it ever can be fully rung down on such an all pervasive subject.)

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