The Great Hunt

Humans often fear that which is different, and that fear is woven throughout The Great Hunt in various manifestations. The most obvious example is the fear and distrust of the Aes Sedai. The mysterious sisterhood is feared for their ability to channel the True Source and for their manipulation of the levers of power. While some, like the Brown Ajah, have no interest in power and prefer scholarly study, others like the Red Ajah use that power to manipulate the affairs of the world toward their ends. Perhaps some are more to be feared than others, but that fear takes on a tyrannical manifestation in the form of the Children of the Light. The paramilitary sect, which recalls the religious/military legions of the Crusades, seek out Aes Sedai only to destroy them, and their “Questioners” resemble the feared inquisitors of the Spanish Inquisition, torturing innocent subjects to obtain the identities of the “guilty.” Much like the orogenes in N.K. Jemisin’s Broken Earth trilogy or communists in post-war America, those with differences, especially powerful differences, must be feared, controlled, and all too frequently destroyed.

The Aes Sedai are not the only example of this fear of difference. In an example far closer to the real world, the refugees of Foregate—the community of migrants living outside the gates of Cairhien—are scorned and treated as little more than animals. They live in substandard conditions, are not given access to the creature comforts of the city, and are seen as unworthy of attention by the nobles. It is no great stretch to see parallels to this world. As wars rage and civilians are displaced, seeking sanctuary in other countries, the response from some has been to relegate refugees to squalid camps outside of mainstream society rather than to share the wealth. Unfortunately, refugees from Syria, Central America, and other locales have found themselves in the same position as those in Jordan’s fictitious Foregate—jostling for scraps, always on the outside looking in, and creating their own home away from home in a land that does not want them.

While Tolkien “cordially dislike[d]” allegory, another fantasy author of his time embraced it. C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia is a thinly veiled Christian allegory. The lion Aslan is an obvious Christ figure, sacrificing himself for the sins of the human boy Edmund and rising from the dead to defeat the White Witch. The battle between the forces of Aslan and the White Witch is a great moral struggle between good and evil. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion is literally the creation story of Middle Earth, complete with God (Eru), the Devil (Melkor), and angels (Ainur). While not as directly allegorical as Lewis, Jordan draws some religious parallels in The Great Hunt that are hard to miss. When Nynaeve undergoes her rigorous testing in the White Tower, she is ritually cleansed with water after each trial and absolved of her sins. “You are washed clean of what sin you may have done” (342), intones the Aes Sedai as Nynaeve emerges, shaken, from the first test. When she passes the third and final trial, the Amyrlin finds Nynaeve’s hands pierced with thorns, a reference to both the crucifixion and to Christ’s crown of thorns. The Children of the Light frame their mission as ridding the world of evil, which is the same credo of every religious fundamentalist group in history; and like those groups, no violence or bloodshed is too high a price to pay in service of that goal. To these zealots, the vague moral threat of “evil” can justify nearly any abuse, including torture, war, and burning at the stake. Lastly, when Rand battles the Dark One over the skies of Toman Head, his side is pierced by the Dark One’s staff, an allusion to Roman soldiers piercing Christ’s side while he dies on the cross. While Rand does not die, he returns from the brink of death, living to fight another day.

Both religion and fantasy exist within the context of myth: Religion has its gods, and fantasy has its larger-than-life heroes and magic wielders. Both frame the world in easy dualities, and heroes, while sometimes flawed, will nearly always triumph in the end. Both forms also see the masses as sheep to some degree, looking to be guided through a moral swamp by a strong leader—be it a priest, a king, or a reluctant hero. It may be no accident that Rand, a simple shepherd, is the Chosen One, elected to lead his flock through the turmoil of the Final Battle. Even Christ is a reluctant savior; for one night at least, he begs his father in the Garden of Gethsemane to be released from his terrible sacrifice. Just as fantasy and religion share similar tropes of magic and morality, adherents of both find a similar comfort in their stories of good and evil.