There is a lot of
talk about swords in Sword & Sorcery fiction, but not as much
about the other word. Sorcery is, after all, the other half of the
equation, only it does not get nearly as much play. Magic is a
constant presence in S&S, but not an ubiquitous one, and the
purpose and ethos of magic is something that varies all over the map.
Firstly, and most
obvious, magic is not a real thing. Swordfights and battles and the
clash of steel are things that really happen, or did, and so a writer
has a tremendous amount of information to draw on when writing about
them. You have a lot of precedent, and also a lot of data. You can
look up cutting tests on Youtube and get an idea of the performance
and characteristics of almost any kind of weapon. You can see videos
of various fighting styles and schools, and get a hundred details you
can throw in for verisimilitude.
But magic is not a
real thing, and while one can draw on the various traditions of
occultism for inspiration, you are more or less free to make shit up.
This is a two-edged sword, because on one hand that is a lot of
freedom to have magic do whatever you want it to, but on the other,
that can be a lot of worldbuilding for a short story. Usually, an
author will come up with one style of magic and either have a shared
universe for their works, or just use the similar kind of sorcery for
all their stories regardless.
By and large, this
has led to magic being the domain of villains, because that way you
don’t have to define your magic as thoroughly. Brandon Sanderson
came up with a principle for magic in fiction, holding that the
amount of detail you had to put into your magic system was more or
less proportional to how many problems you let the protagonists solve
with it. In other words, you can pull things out of your ass to make
life harder for your characters, but doing it to get them out of
trouble is cheating, and will feel like cheating.
And thus was born
the archetype of the Evil Wizard in Sword & Sorcery fiction. You
could say it started with Howard villains like Thoth-Amon, Thugra
Khotan, and most famously Xaltotun. All of these characters share
certain characteristics: they are old, undying, or resurrected from
death, they draw their power from forbidden knowledge that predates
the age of humanity, and they are all coded as non-white.
This was part of
what Howard borrowed from Lovecraft, and it was very much part of his
idea of magic – that magic power derives from knowledge that will
drive men insane, and so any man who wields such power will be crazy
and evil. The Evil Wizard does not fight his enemies with sword and
dagger, but plots and schemes from the shadows, dispatching
assassins, curses, and deadly animals or demons to do their work. In
the face of the raw physical power of Howard’s muscular heroes,
they are often helpless, once their minions and tricks have been
brushed aside.
But for the origins
of the archetype, we really have to dig back further, and out of the
realm of fantasy fiction and into the adventure fiction of British
author Sax Rohmer, and his indelible creation Dr Fu Manchu. This is
really where the basic stock images of the Evil Wizard originate.
Steeped in ancient evil, descended from a lineage separate from
ordinary men, Fu Manchu lurks on the shadows, master of an array of
exotic poisons, drugs, torture techniques, and a legion of fanatical
minions. He is a sorcerer in all but name, and in fact Howard
himself pastiched the Doctor in his novella Skull Face,
explicitly making his off-brand Doctor, Kathulos, a surviving
Atlantean.
Rohmer said he based
Fu Manchu on Asian crime bosses he met while he was a reporter in
Limehouse, and the casual and cartoonish racism of the tales is hard
to do anything but laugh at now. But the archetype sank into the
popular culture, and surfaced as the Evil Wizard image. We picture
our sorcerers encamped in dank laboratories, surrounded by grotesque
experiments, reading forbidden books. They wear strange facial hair
and probably a skullcap, they turn the pages with long, pointed nails
and breathe in drugged smoke to have visions that unlock their secret
knowledge.
It is significant
that when Moorcock made Elric his hero, he made him a wizard, and
thus he had to define much more clearly what that power could and
could not accomplish. Yet one thing that did not change was that
magic was dangerous and unclean. The powers wielded by magic in S&S
are not the Vancian style of “wave wave boom” made popular
by role-playing games. Magic in Sword & Sorcery has a cost,
whether in blood, or more often in sanity. Lovecraft left his mark
on the genre with a tradition of magic that is essentially inhuman
and dangerous, no matter who is using it. There may be those who
would use sorcery for good ends, but the means will always remain
twisted and evil.
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