Wheel of Time Worldbuilding Analysis: Part 1

The Wheel of Time series was my introduction to epic fantasy as a child, and the first invented world I really sunk my teeth into when I decided to start building my own. Coming back to it as an adult always feels a bit like returning home.

Of course, re-reading it as an adult, I can also understand the common critiques about the series. Regardless of whether you enjoy the story or not, though, there is no arguing that Robert Jordan was a master worldbuilder, in my opinion on the same level as Tolkien. The bulk of this worldbuilding happens in the first half of the series (books 1-7), and if you’re thinking “how the hell can it take someone 7 books to build a world?”—well, that’s the scope of the lands and history that serve as the foundation for the story.

(Note: Thar be spoilers up ahead. If you haven’t read the first 7 books of Wheel of Time and care about such things, probably best to skip this post).

Like my past worldbuilding analyses of Dune and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, this post is going to be in two parts—and, in true Robert Jordan fashion, both of those parts are quite long (just fair warning). In this first post I’ll focus on the big-picture concepts, while in the second I’ll get into more of the nitty-gritty of the cultures and creatures.

The Slow-Burn Build

One common critique about WoT is the sheer volume of pages involved, and the amount of pagespace that passes without major plot action. Usually this is phrased as “nothing happens”, but I don’t think that’s completely accurate. The story might not be actively moving forward but there is definitely something happening during these stretches: the world is solidifying. These periods of seeming inaction happen in between the introduction of new landscapes and cultures, and I would argue they’re necessary to create the feeling of an interconnected, fully-realized world on this kind of global scale.

If the characters just hopped from city to city without taking this time to linger, the plot would end up feeling more episodic, like the planet-of-the-week settings in Star Trek or Doctor Who. The emphasis would be more fully on the characters and plot, sure, and he might’ve gotten the whole thing done in half the books and had it written before he died—but that’s not what he did. He let his characters meander across the world, even after they discover ways to move through it faster. 

Perhaps even more notable, he gives secondary characters equal pagespace as Rand (often significantly more pagespace, depending on the book) even when their current actions don’t directly support his plotline. This is what adds the majority of the books’ bulk, even more so than the in-depth descriptions, but it’s also one of the things that most distinguishes the series from a typical hero’s journey narrative. One could argue that, while Rand is clearly the core player both in an in-world and narrative sense, the Wheel of Time is not his story alone. Characters like Matt, Perrin, Egwene, and Nynaeve are equally well-developed, with their own motivations and conflicts, and it becomes increasingly clear throughout the series that they are all necessary for the Last Battle. Rand alone can’t save the world—it takes a village to fend off the apocalypse, and Jordan introduces that whole village to the reader by the end of book 7.

By fully establishing the cultures in his world, Jordan also builds himself a set of character archetypes to use for background characters and first introductions of new recurring players. A quick description of someone’s appearance or clothing and the reader knows their nationality and status, and along with that a likely set of personality traits. Establishing these various cultures adds more nuance into the over-arching conflict, as well. The ultimate conflict is one of good vs. evil, but it’s often not that clear-cut when it comes to individual character actions and motivations.

The Whitecloaks are the most obvious example of this. The were founded to be soldiers for the Light, which would make them seem like clear allies of the Dragon Reborn in his battle against the Dark One. Functionally, though, they’re an analog to the Inquisition, and are established as antagonists from book 1. They claim to root out Darkfriends and people who serve the shadow (and sometimes they actually do, though it comes across as an accidental side-effect). In reality, they’re on a perpetual witch hunt that targets women who can channel and unpopular neighbors. Yet, on the individual level, even within the Whitecloaks there are a few characters the reader comes to, if not root for, at least respect. Pedron Niall, for example, is intelligent, reasonable, and downright kind at times. Then there’s Galad, Elayne’s half-brother who is good to a fault, whose motivations are always pure but whose actions in that pursuit make him a constant thorn in the other characters’ sides. The Whitecloaks could have been written as a one-dimensional organization but are given a complexity that makes them feel more real (and infinitely more interesting). 

That slow burn also allows Jordan to hide easter eggs and insert cross-book plot threads with a long payoff. Many of the ancient structures the characters pass along their journeys, for example, end up becoming important plot drivers later on in the series. Often, these monuments are introduced in a seemingly throw-away context, their importance only becoming known later on. That creates a fun experience for the reader, especially if they’re able to figure out what’s going on before it’s revealed in the text. It also keeps these ancient artifacts from feeling like MacGuffins, a likely risk if they were introduced right where and when they’re needed. It also mirrors the in-world experience for the reader. The people who live around these artifacts have always known of their existence, but not of their potential uses. The reader gets that experience replicated because of the way Jordan builds his world.

Cyclical Time

The events in the Wheel of Time books take place in what is said to be the world’s Third Age—and toward the end of it, likely, with the Last Battle looming on the horizon. This is not the first Third Age that the world has seen. Time in this universe is represented by a seven-spoked wheel, with each spoke corresponding to an age that cycle through from one to the next, each apparently culminating in a civilization-ending cataclysm if the established pattern holds. In the background of these turning ages—or maybe driving it—is the perpetual good vs. evil fight of the Creator against the Dark One. This fight will apparently shift into the foreground during the Last Battle, though exactly what that will look like is still anybody’s guess by the end of book 7 (and exactly why the so-called “Last Battle” happens at the end of the Third Age instead of the Seventh is a mystery I don’t think even Jordan knew the answer to). 

Of course, there’s no telling for sure what happens at the end of any other ages. The people in the Third Age have only vague memories of the Second Age that preceded it, known among them as the Age of Legends. The reader gets a few more glimpses of what life was like in the Second Age, however. Enough to see that civilization reached a far more advanced level of technology before collapsing, with a sci-fi-ish array of mood-sensing clothes and flying cars mixed in with more advanced forms of the magic utilized in the present age (more on that in a sec). Their desire to push those advances even further ultimately led to their downfall. Scientists sensed a powerful source of energy and sought to harness it, in the process tearing a hole in the Dark One’s prison and starting the series of events that would lead to the War of Power and Breaking of the World.

One fun thing about this is that it technically makes Wheel of Time a far-future post-apocalyptic narrative. The characters retain vague memories of an advanced civilization that has now been reduced to a Medieval-era level of technological advancement. Some artifacts from the Age of Legend are still in use in the modern day, and they do seem like magic (though this is complicated somewhat by the fact that many of them actually are magic since they use the One Power). 

This cyclical time framework gives the events of the series a unique energy. In one sense, it takes some of the tension out of things—events are prophesied and perhaps even pre-determined; the wheel of time is said to weave the pattern of the ages, in which each person’s life is a thread, and the amount of control they have over their actions is questionable.

Yet it also leads to intriguing questions. The biggest one being: is this just another iteration of the age? Several characters throughout the books seem to think the wheel could be broken if events happen in just the right way. Maybe the reason Jordan has chosen to show us this particular iteration of the Third Age is that it’s the last one. And if the wheel does break, what would that mean for the world’s future?

There’s also the question of exactly what Rand’s actions are supposed to accomplish. Obviously he’s supposed to defeat the Dark One, but what does that mean? Because time is cyclical, we know that the Dark One’s prison was whole and theoretically intact (or at least sealed up much better) before the Bore was drilled into it at the end of the Age of Legends. Which logically suggests that, somewhere in the cycle before the end of the Second Age, the prison is built for the first time, which in turn implies there’s an age during which the Dark One is, at least temporarily, completely free. There are other possibilities, true, but the point is the concept of cyclical time opens up intriguing possibilities, not just for where the events of these books are ultimately going, but as a broader thought experiment.

The One Power

The One Power is the magic system the Wheel of Time universe is built around. It’s a gendered magic system, with separate male (saidin) and female (saidar) forces represented by a symbol that most definitely isn’t just a yin-yan sans dots:

 

The ability to touch the One Power seems to be genetic. Those who are “born with the spark” will eventually touch the One Power on their own, while others need to be trained before they can sense and use it. The internet has not reached a consensus on what percentage of the population can channel, but it’s somewhere in the neighborhood of 5% or less—that’s how many can be taught to use it, not the number who will touch it regardless. 

Given this rarity, it’s no surprise that, during the Age of Legends, both male and female wielders of the One Power were often high-ranking members of society. From the little information we have, they seem to have been on roughly equal footing. Yet even though saidin and saidar are two halves of the same force, they’re also distinct. Male and female channelers can work together if they link, but they can’t see each other’s flows, and the way to accomplish certain activities is different depending on which side of the One Power is being wielded. 

Many of the inherent differences between saidin and saidar are, to be honest, a bit cliché. Along with the male/female split, the One Power is divided into five elements: wind, water, fire, earth, and spirit. Women are stronger, typically, in wind and water; men in earth and fire. Women wield saidar by surrendering to it; the most common metaphor used by female channelers is to picture themselves as a rosebud opening itself to the sun. Conversely, male channelers describe using saidin as a battle, like riding a “rushing torrent” that will sweep them away if they lose their control for even a moment. And, of course, saidin is more powerful overall, meaning the best male channelers are stronger than the top women.

At least, this was the case when male and female channelers worked side by side. During the events that ended the Age of Legends, saidin was permanently tainted by the Dark One, dooming its channelers to eventually go insane and die. The Breaking of the World was caused as all of these male Aes Sedai went crazy, flinging the One Power about willy-nilly and most of the landscape with it. This has obviously shifted the public’s perceptions of male channelers, who are now outcast, hunted down as soon as their ability manifests to prevent another cataclysm.

Honestly, the most interesting thing about the One Power isn’t how its wielded, but how the present cultures of the late Third Age view those who use it. There is no longer one global society for all users of the One Power, as there seems to have been during the Age of Legends. Instead, each society has developed its own systems and roles for channelers.

Mainlands/Wetlands

The Aes Sedai from the Age of Legends have survived in an altered form, an all-female organization that controls the city-state of Tar Valon. While that is the extent of their official power, nearly every nation’s ruler has an Aes Sedai advisor, and they’re widely believed to pull the strings behind the scenes of every major global or political event.

The Aes Sedai have their own ruler and largely live in Tar Valon, separate from broader society. They’re further divided into 7 color-coded groups, called Ajahs, that each have a distinct core mission. One of these, the Red Ajah is primarily devoted to protecting the world from men who can channel. They track down men born with the spark who start to channel, either killing them or cutting them off from the One Power (a process known as gentling). No one is testing men for the One Power, though—they only track down those who actually start to channel and make enough of a nuisance of themselves that other people know it. 

The Aes Sedai don’t have a broad testing system for women, either. It seems as if they manage to find the majority of women with the spark in the wetlands, but their reach is far from as complete as they believe. Some still learn to channel on their known, known derisively as Wilders, often serving as healers for their communities. And it is likely countless of men and women who could potentially have channeled live and die never knowing it, considering the Aes Sedai seem to do virtually no recruiting prior to the events of the books. They expect women who can channel will come to them, and until the mid-point of the series, are utterly ignorant about how few actually do.

The Aiel

Unlike the Aes Sedai, the Aiel do have a universal testing policy in place. All women who can channel are required to become Wise Ones, female leaders and healers whose authority seems roughly equal to that of the male clan chiefs. 

Men who begin to channel among the Aiel are given weapons and sent north to the Blight, the land around the current physical location of the Dark One’s prison. Once there, they presumably use their fledgling hold on saidin and the Aiel’s usual array of weapons to kill as many Shadowspawn as they can before they die or go insane (so far as we know by the end of book 7).

The Sea Folk

Like the Aiel, the Sea Folk give women who can channel a place of honor in their society. They serve as Windfinders, who help to find (and create) good weather to keep their ships moving quickly. It can be presumed the Sea Folk also have some kind of testing system in place since they find enough channelers to not only run their massive fleets, but also send a few token weaklings off to the Aes Sedai so they don’t poke their nose in or ask too many questions. 

Men who can channel are given a choice. They can walk the plank holding a rock tied to their legs, or be left on an uninhabited, barren island with no food or water. So basically they’re executed.

The Seanchan

The Seanchan also have a comprehensive testing system to detect all female channelers, though not all of them realize they’re able to channel. Among the Seanchan, those who can channel are considered too dangerous to roam free. They’re imprisoned and collared with a device known as an a’dam. The women holding the other end are those without the spark who can be trained, though this is a fact known only to a few people among them by the halfway point of the series.

It's not known how the Seanchan deal with male channelers. Presumably they’re killed, given how the Seanchan respond to most things.

Parallel Worlds

As if the sprawling physical landscapes in WoT aren’t enough, there are apparently an infinite number of copies. These are described variously as “reflections” or “worlds that might be” and show reality as it would have been had people made different choices and events had different outcomes. The less likely the outcome, the more insubstantial the world. 

The reader sees an example of this in book 2, when Rand accidentally activates a portal stone and transports himself and a few companions into an alternate reality, one where the Shadow has apparently overrun humanity and Seanchan wildlife roams free in the mainland. It’s also hinted that the Ways somehow use these other realities, though they’ve become so corrupted it’s hard to derive any information or insights from what’s shown in them.

All of these reflections are linked together in Tel’aran’rhiod, also called the Unseen World, the World of Dreams, or the Wolf Dream, depending on who’s talking. The reader sees much more of the World of Dreams than the alternate realities, largely because it’s much easier for humans to access, and becomes more so for more characters as the series goes on. 

Functionally, Jordan uses these alternate realities for three core purposes:

In short, it becomes a very useful tool for controlling both the pace of the narrative and the flow and reveal of information. 

The existence of these parallel realities also raises an interesting question in regards to the cyclical time mentioned above, and whether Rand’s iteration of the Third Age could break the wheel of time. Theoretically, all possible iterations of reality are played out in the parallel portal stone universes. If the wheel of time were broken, that would end time as it’s known for all realities—at least, the various philosophers within the world seem to think as much. Ergo, since that hasn’t happened, the wheel has never been broken, and if the wheel has never been broken in all the possible iterations of reality, then this seems to indicate it never will be.

A few more thoughts on each of these parallel landscapes:

Tel’aran’rhiod

The World of Dreams is a reflection of reality—or most of it, at least. Inanimate objects show up where they exist in the real world, with items that move frequently often doing the same thing in the dream world. Wild animals also exist, though not domesticated ones, which is perhaps an interesting statement of what becomes of a creature’s soul through the process of domestication.

All humans can accidentally enter Tel’aran’rhiod when they’re dreaming, but select individuals can enter it at will. Dreamwalkers and Wolfbrothers have this ability born-in. It also seems as if anyone who can channel can learn to enter the World of Dreams, considering all the Forsaken seem able to do it and it’s unlikely they were all born as Dreamers. Dreaming is considered a Talent among the Aes Sedai, however, so just who can be taught to enter unaided (and how that’s accomplished) is still murky.

There are also some full-time inhabitants in Tel’aran’rhiod. It’s where the souls of great heroes cool their heels between reincarnations, as well as the spirits of dead wolves. Wolves seem to exist at least partially in the Wolf Dream even when they’re alive in the waking world, an interesting detail that seems to suggest they, as a species, have a special connection with and role in the pattern.

There are strong parallels between the World of Dreams and the Australian Aboriginal concept of the Dreamtime. Jordan has said in interviews that Australian aboriginal culture was an influence on his conception of Wolfbrothers, so it’s reasonable to assume it influenced other aspects of his world, too. 

Now, one interesting thing about the Australian Dreamtime is how time operates within it. It’s an “Everwhen”, where the past, present, and future exist simultaneously. This doesn’t seem to have been fully adopted by Jordan—clearly the landscapes in the World of Dreams are the Third Age version of the world—but it is mentioned that time moves differently there, and both Egwene and Perrin are shown receiving visions of the future while in the World of Dreams. It may not be a true Everwhen, but it does seem to be a place that exists outside of normal time as well as outside normal space.

Portal Stones

The Portal Stones are maybe the most interesting group of One Power objects in WoT because they predate even the Age of Legends. They were apparently created using something called the Numbers of Chaos, which was said to be passed from age to age but was apparently lost during the Breaking of the World. As far as we know, nobody in the Third Age knows how the portal stones were made or how to operate them.

According to Verin, the Portal Stones let people travel “the Lines that join the Worlds that Might Be”, phrasing which again has shades of the Australian Dreamtime. Many Australian aboriginal creation myths follow what are known as Songlines, walking routes that connected important locations across Australia. These lines were said to be laid by the gods, who created the various points along the Songline as they walked it (this is a simplification, but you get the gist). 

The concept of Everwhen is more present in the Portal Stone universes than Tel’aran’rhiod, too. The second time Rand intentionally uses a Portal Stone, he messes up and ends up showing everyone he’s transporting all of their potential life paths. His POV shows several of the lifetimes he experiences during the journey. Lanfear also states at one point that time works differently in some of the worlds, passing faster or slower, and while she’s not the most trustworthy source of information it’s an interesting idea if it’s true.

Functionally, the Portal Stones serve two purposes. The first is transportation ease, as mentioned above. The second is to introduce the concept of a world beyond the one the characters inhabit. This sets up the introduction of Tel’aran’rhiod, as well as the general idea of alternate timelines and spaces outside of time, something that recurs in various ways throughout the series. 

The Ways

Male Aes Sedai invented the Ways to thank the Ogier for their hospitality during the early years of the Breaking. Once given this ability, the Ogier grew Waygates wherever they needed to travel, including steddings and the groves outside of the large human cities where their stone masons worked. Little is known of the making of the Ways, but they were believed to have been somehow modeled after studies of the Portal Stones, and seem to exist outside of normal reality. 

The Ways functioned as intended for about 2,000 years before they were corrupted, turning dark and spawning the Black Wind, a malicious force that attacks and consumes any living creature that it catches. The corruption of the Ways is universally accepted to have been caused by the taint on saidin, though exactly how everyone arrived at this conclusion isn’t really explained, and no one seems to fully understand where the Black Wind came from.

By the end of the Third Age, the Ways are considered too dangerous to travel and are used consistently only by Shadowspawn. Our heroes use the Ways in Book 1 out of necessity, taking a symbolic underworld journey that culminates in Rand’s figurative rebirth as the Dragon Reborn. 

Obviously the characters stop using the Ways as soon as they have other options available. For the most part, the Ways fade into the background after Book 2, but their presence endures in the figure of Padan Fain. Fain is a Darkfriend who starts following Rand and company from the very beginning. This takes him through two highly toxic landscapes: the Ways, and the evil, corrupted city known as Shadar Logoth (translation: Where the Shadow Waits). By the end of this journey, this transforms Fain into a kind of Super Evil, a rogue dark force that even the Dark One doesn’t seem to control anymore.

I am not completely convinced that the corruption of the Ways can be explained by the taint on saidin. The Aes Sedai all think so, but it’s been well established that Aes Sedai assume many things to be true that aren’t. Besides, if it was a byproduct of the taint, why did it take 2,000 years for the effects to show? I suppose it could be a delayed onset kind of thing, similar to how men who channel the One Power don’t go insane right away, but that feels too messy for a world constructed with this much care. 

There’s also the matter of Rand’s unhealing wounds. He receives the first fighting one of the Forsaken, Ishamael, at the end of book 2. The wound is filled with darkness, the main reason it won’t heal, and since it was delivered by a Forsaken, we can assume that darkness is directly linked to the Dark One. Several books later, Rand is wounded by Padan Fain in that exact spot. Fain’s blow is equally tainted and unhealable, yet the characters who try healing it indicate the evil in Fain’s wound is different from that of Ishamael’s. In fact, they’re described as fighting each other. If both evils were from the same source, one would think they’d work in tandem, not in opposition.

I think it’s more likely there’s a reason Jordan linked the Black Wind to Shadar Logoth in Padan Fain. Shadar Logoth was created during the Trolloc Wars, which happened 1,000-1,350 years after the Breaking. That means Mashadar (the evil that haunts Shadar Logoth) predates the corruption of the Ways. We also know that there was a waygate at Aridhol, the city that became Shadar Logoth, so the evil that formed there would have been able to access the Ways through it.  

There are also interesting similarities between Mashadar and the Black Wind. Mashadar manifests as a white fog that can appear anywhere in Shadar Logoth, though it’s not omnipresent. It also only comes out at night, and seems to be held back by sunlight. It’s not believed to be sentient, though it does seem to have preferences in who it attacks, drawn especially to Shadowspawn and users of the One Power. The Black Wind is equally intangible, described mostly as a roaring sound and a babbling of mad, violent voices. It seems bound within the Ways as firmly as Mashadar is bound to Shadar Logoth, and only began to manifest once the Ways went dark. While not sentient, it also seems to respond with particular violence when Shadowspawn or the One Power are involved.

Of course, that begs the question: if Mashadar and the Black Wind do represent a different breed of evil, where did it come from, and how does it relate to the good vs. evil conflict that drives the narrative? They’re intriguing questions that have yet to be answered by the end of book 7 (or even through the end of book 13, which was where I stopped my first read-around).

The Old Tongue

Everyone across the WoT world seems to speak the same language, referred to as the New Tongue. This was likely a choice of expediency on Jordan’s part—rather than entire languages, each country and culture has their own accent and dialect to differentiate their speech, which is much easier to develop, keep track of, and show on page than a whole-ass other language. 

There is a conlang in WoT, however: The Old Tongue, which was the language spoken during the Age of Legends. The Old Tongue endures in ceremonial and scholarly contexts through to the end of the Third Age. The New Tongue is so named because it is a “common” form of the Old Tongue, starting as the vulgar form of the language during the time of the Ten Nations. 

Now, it does make sense that the entire world would have spoken the same language during the Age of Legends. The existence of Traveling would have enabled a truly globalized society much earlier in their development, and with it the need for a global language. It’s a bit more of a stretch, though, that the Old Tongue would have vulgarized into the New Tongue in exactly the same way all around the world.

This could be read as further reinforcement of how interconnected all people are in this reality. You could consider Tel’aran’rhiod as evidence of a kind of collective consciousness, one somehow connected to the One Power but not dependent on it.

An underlying collective consciousness would explain why people in Seanchan and the Waste evolved the same core language despite having no contact for nearly 3,000 years. It could also explain abilities like Min’s views of the pattern, or even the Wolf Brothers or thief-takers. Certain individuals are born with a genetic disposition to access more of the collective consciousness than others, and while the ability to touch the One Power is the most common, it’s not the only way it manifests. All of this is just a theory, of course, but it sounds better than assuming Jordan just didn’t want to fuck with the complications of realistic language development (which is also fair, if that’s the case, if slightly disappointing).

In any case, by the end of the Third Age, the Old Tongue is no longer in active use. Some learn it, but few speak it fluently. In the books, then, the ability to understand the Old Tongue is used to indicate a character has access to archaic knowledge. Matt gains this ability along with the memories of Third Age heroes that turn him into a military genius. The Ogier, guardians of knowledge and history with their long lives and secluded steddings, are fluent in the Old Tongue, as are characters like the Forsaken and Birgitte. When a new character shows up speaking the Old Tongue, this becomes an immediate cause for suspicion, or at least notice; if it’s not explained by scholarly pursuits, it begs the question whether they’re someone much older in disguise.

Think that’s probably more than enough for part 1. Next week, I’ll pick it up with Rand’s hero’s journey, the Ogier, constructed beings, and a highlight on some of what I see as the most distinctive and interesting cultures in the WoT world.

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#Worldbuilding #Fantasy #Mythology