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Last year, I resumed my “About the Characters” post series that focuses on the minor characters in The Wall Of Night series, because:
“I think it’s the presence of the smaller characters that “makes” a story, creating texture around the main points of view.”
~ from my Legend Award Finalist's Interview, 2013
Initially, the series focused exclusively on characters from The Heir of Night, but now I’m continuing on with minor characters from both The Gathering Of The Lost and Daughter of Blood simultaneously — in alphabetical order, of course!
(The quotes, together with the covers, indicate whether the character appears in both or only one of the books.)
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Eria: an initiate priestess, serving in the Temple of Night
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“Why are you out here?” Haimyr asked. “Surely you’ve not come to meet me?”
Asantir stepped back. “I have. Eria told us that the talisman she gave Garan for the journey had begun to glow, so we knew you were close…”
~ from © The Gathering Of The Lost, The Wall of Night Book Two: Chapter 28 — Border Crossing
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Just as well Eria isn’t among the elect then, Garan reflected. Otherwise she could not have kissed him the way she had, the day he departed for the River…Garan, who had been conferring with Asantir, was the last to reach the gate— and at the final moment Eria had come running, swinging herself up by virtue of his saddlebow and one foot resting on his in the stirrup, to kiss him on the mouth.
~ from © Daughter Of Blood: The Wall of Night Book Three, Chapter 13 — Watch and Ward
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…)
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.
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.” 🙂
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:
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
The numerical alchemy in 
September 1 was the day for my regular 
I am delighted to do a Just Arrived post for you today, because the new arrival is a novella-in-flash, The Crazed Wind (Truth Serum Press), written by my friend and fellow Christchurch author, Nod Ghosh.
Stormbringer from Michael Moorcock’s Elric of Melnibone series
And one cannot discuss artefacts or swords of power without reference to Excalibur from the many variants of the King Arthur legend. Not the least of those was Excalibur’s re-imagining as Caliburn, the sword of the fallen (Roman) Emperor Maximus, in Mary Stewart’s wonderful Arthurian sequence.
“Hold on,” you may cry, “what about Druss, the legendary axeman in David Gemmell’s groundbreaking heroic fantasy, Legend?” To which I reply—nodding sagely—that although Druss is clearly one of the three leading protagonists in Legend, in the context of the book he is i) not of the high, knightly classes; and ii) does not see himself as heroic, although others clearly do. It is Rek, who becomes the Earl of Bronze, albeit through marriage, who is the great swordsman. Serbitar and the Thirty, who are mostly if not all of noble birth, also primarily use swords.
Alan Garner goes directly to the Four Treasures of Celtic myth in Elidor, which are found in a mound. These may also be found, although not necessarily in their official Four Treasures guise, in other Celtic-inpsired fantasy novels, such as Guy Gavriel Kay’s Fionavar series and Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising quintet.
In Garner’s The Weirdstone of Brisingamen the treasure is a stone and not the necklace of Norse myth, but it’s rightful resting place is also a cave. Returning to Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising series (as mentioned in the MacGuffin post), the five books centre on the finding of longlost artefacts that will support the power of the light and turn back the dark. These include the grail, a codex to decipher it, and the “six signs” of Will Stanton’s Twelfth Night quest in the second book, also titled The Dark is Rising. As for where to find such items, “over sea and under stone” and generally secreted in unexpected places is the order of things.
In Philip Pullman’s Golden Compass trilogy, the first book is centered around the mysterious alethiometer, a truth-telling and predictive compass that only Lyra can readily interpret. In the second book, The Subtle Knife, the blade for which the book is named opens gateways between parallel universes. The armour of the panzerbjorn is also a significant artefact as well as the essence of the bears’ physical and spiritual being. The latter are only found in the forges of the frozen north.
As for JK Rowling’s Harry Potter, in which the books grow increasingly epic as the story progresses, the series features an abundance of artefacts of power. These include the philosopher’s stone of the first book (try Gringott’s vaults and/or caves beneath Hogwarts), the cloak of invisibility, the sword of Gryffindor (the Sorting Hat provides sure access), Hermione’s timeturner (professors such as Minerva McGonagall are a reliable source), and the goblet of fire (enchanted within a maze) for which the fourth book is named—not to mention the seven horcruxes in which Lord Voldemort has secreted part of his being. The latter will always be concealed in secret and highly dangerous locations.
If we look back to ships such as the Argo and 
In terms of artefacts that bridge Children’s and Adult literature, one can say that this is “all of them!” since artefacts of power are integral to epic fantasy. Ships, though, are one of my particular favourites, possibly because I always wanted to be an Argonaut as a kid. 😉 So it may then come as no surprise to learn that Robin Hobb’s Liveship Traders trilogy, which starts with Ship of Magic, is a favourite of mine and that I heart all the ships. Vivacia and Paragon are definitely just as much characters as the human protagonists. (At this point, of course, I yearn to mention Iain M Banks’s Culture ships, but of course I can’t because, fantastic though they are, they’re definitely Science Fiction and not Fantasy.)
Musical instruments are another of my favourite artefacts of power. I’ve always had a particular fondness for the cwidder (a musical instrument, reminiscent of a lute) that Moril uses to bring down mountains in Diana Wynne Jones’ Cart and Cwidder. In literature for older readers, I’ve always respected Morgon of Hed’s starred harp (in Patricia McKillip’s Riddlemaster trilogy), which has a lowest string that will snap steel and shatter stone. Unlike the cwidder, though, which belonged to Moril’s father before he inherited it, Morgon’s harp is a “found” object.
When it comes to artefacts of doom, stones hold a distinguished place in the literature. The stone called the Terrenon, in Ursula Le Guin’s A Wizard Of Earthsea, and the Stone-at the-Heart-of-the-Deep in Barbara Hambly’s Dragonsbane, are both sources of great power that can be drawn on by others. The difference is that in Earthsea, the Terrenon is clearly evil, whereas the Dragonsbane Stone is neutral but the will of the user determines whether the magic is turned to good or evil ends. Both stones are to be found in secret chambers, deep within the earth.
Golden torcs are a crucial artefact in Julian May’s Saga of the Exiles quartet, as it is the torcs that enable the Tanu (i.e. the sidhe or fey) and those humans allied with them, to access their psychic and magical powers. Being born to or enlisting in the ranks of the Tanu is the usual way to obtain one. Golden torcs also play a significant part, for weal and woe, in Diana Wynne Jones’ Power of Three.
In David Gemmell’s Legend (mentioned above), Druss’s axe Snaga may be named but it has no magical powers. The armour of the Earl of Bronze, however—which also appears in Waylander, the prequel to Legend—is known as “the soul of the Earl of Bronze” and has considerable legendary and mystical status in the hearts and imaginations of the populace. As to where to find it, it is in “a deep cave high up the side of a tall mountain” in Waylander, and in a locked room beneath the fortress of Dros Delnoch in Legend—where the Earl’s sword is encased in a block of mysterious crystal.
No discussion of artefacts of power would be complete without reference to The Luggage from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. The Luggage is first encountered following the tourist, Twoflower, who hails from the Counterweight continent and gifts The Luggage to the wizard, Rincewind. The Luggage is distinguished by being able to follow Twoflower or Rincewind anywhere, including into alternate dimensions. It also devours thieves and is the only entity in the Discworld that presents a real challenge to the invincible Coen the Barbarian. If you want your own set of similar luggage, I’m guessing the Counterweight continent is the place to look…
Fantasy in general and epic fantasy in particular is often categorized as intrinsically nostalgic and inherently anti-tech. Yet I find it fascinating that artefacts are integral to fantasy storytelling, since they are created or shaped objects and in this sense technological, although usually from an earlier age. The stolen computer in Barbara Hambly’s The Silent Tower is one exception to that rule, though.
