Fantasy
![Wesley Chu - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_wesley_chu.jpg)
The Art of Prophecy: A Novel (The War Arts Saga, 1)
A "superb fantasy saga" (Helene Wecker) of martial arts and magic, about what happens when a prophesied hero is not the chosen one after all-but has to work with a band of unlikely allies to save the kingdom anyway, from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Lives of Tao
"An ambitious and touching exploration of disillusionment in faith, tradition, and family-a glorious reinvention of fantasy and wuxia tropes."-Naomi Novik, New York Times bestselling author of A Deadly Education
So many stories begin the same way: With a prophecy. A chosen one. And the inevitable quest to slay a villain, save the kingdom, and fulfill a grand destiny.
But this is not that kind of story.
It does begin with a prophecy: A child will rise to defeat the Eternal Khan, a cruel immortal god-king, and save the kingdom.
And that prophecy did anoint a hero, Jian, raised since birth in luxury and splendor, and celebrated before he has won a single battle.
But that's when the story hits its first twist: The prophecy is wrong.
What follows is a story more wondrous than any prophecy could foresee, and with many unexpected heroes: Taishi, an older woman who is the greatest grandmaster of magical martial arts in the kingdom but who thought her adventuring days were all behind her; Sali, a straitlaced warrior who learns the rules may no longer apply when the leader to whom she pledged her life is gone; and Qisami, a chaotic assassin who takes a little too much pleasure in the kill.
And Jian himself, who has to find a way to become what he no longer believes he can be-a hero after all.
"An ambitious and touching exploration of disillusionment in faith, tradition, and family-a glorious reinvention of fantasy and wuxia tropes."-Naomi Novik, New York Times bestselling author of A Deadly Education
So many stories begin the same way: With a prophecy. A chosen one. And the inevitable quest to slay a villain, save the kingdom, and fulfill a grand destiny.
But this is not that kind of story.
It does begin with a prophecy: A child will rise to defeat the Eternal Khan, a cruel immortal god-king, and save the kingdom.
And that prophecy did anoint a hero, Jian, raised since birth in luxury and splendor, and celebrated before he has won a single battle.
But that's when the story hits its first twist: The prophecy is wrong.
What follows is a story more wondrous than any prophecy could foresee, and with many unexpected heroes: Taishi, an older woman who is the greatest grandmaster of magical martial arts in the kingdom but who thought her adventuring days were all behind her; Sali, a straitlaced warrior who learns the rules may no longer apply when the leader to whom she pledged her life is gone; and Qisami, a chaotic assassin who takes a little too much pleasure in the kill.
And Jian himself, who has to find a way to become what he no longer believes he can be-a hero after all.
Editorial Reviews
"The Art of Prophecy is an ambitious and touching exploration of disillusionment in faith, tradition, and family, and but also unexpectedly funny. I loved following Wesley Chu's intricate narrative through this sprawling universe full of glorious reinvention of fantasy and wuxia tropes."-Naomi Novik, New York Times bestselling author of A Deadly Education
"In this superb fantasy saga of tough, old martial-arts masters and inexperienced young heroes, Wesley Chu has given us a richly inventive page-turner that delights on every page. The Art of Prophecy is Wesley Chu at the height of his imaginative powers, and I can't wait for the next installment!"-Helene Wecker, author of The Golem and the Jinni and The Hidden Palace
"Electrifying, thrilling, and a glorious, romantic ride, The Art of Prophecy is a true delight. Readers won't be able to put it down."-Robert Jackson Bennett, author of The Founders Trilogy
"Wesley Chu has done it again-this time on an epic scale. The Art of Prophecy is a terrific and compelling story that plays off so many classic tales taken from our own world and reinvents them all in classic fashion."-Terry Brooks, New York Times bestselling author of Child of Light
"Come for the awesome fight choreography, stay for the sly wit, worldbuilding, and a fresh and unexpected take on the hero's journey!"-Jacqueline Carey, New York Times bestselling author of Kushiel's Legacy
"A whirlwind tale rich with politics and fantastical martial arts . . . Chu tells a refreshing coming-of-age story with a ‘chosen one' who faces real challenges to become a hero."-Robin Hobb, author of the Fitz and the Fool Trilogy
"In The Art of Prophecy, Wesley Chu writes like a master war artist. The War Arts Saga introduces a lavish world of martial arts that transcends into the mystical, jus...
"In this superb fantasy saga of tough, old martial-arts masters and inexperienced young heroes, Wesley Chu has given us a richly inventive page-turner that delights on every page. The Art of Prophecy is Wesley Chu at the height of his imaginative powers, and I can't wait for the next installment!"-Helene Wecker, author of The Golem and the Jinni and The Hidden Palace
"Electrifying, thrilling, and a glorious, romantic ride, The Art of Prophecy is a true delight. Readers won't be able to put it down."-Robert Jackson Bennett, author of The Founders Trilogy
"Wesley Chu has done it again-this time on an epic scale. The Art of Prophecy is a terrific and compelling story that plays off so many classic tales taken from our own world and reinvents them all in classic fashion."-Terry Brooks, New York Times bestselling author of Child of Light
"Come for the awesome fight choreography, stay for the sly wit, worldbuilding, and a fresh and unexpected take on the hero's journey!"-Jacqueline Carey, New York Times bestselling author of Kushiel's Legacy
"A whirlwind tale rich with politics and fantastical martial arts . . . Chu tells a refreshing coming-of-age story with a ‘chosen one' who faces real challenges to become a hero."-Robin Hobb, author of the Fitz and the Fool Trilogy
"In The Art of Prophecy, Wesley Chu writes like a master war artist. The War Arts Saga introduces a lavish world of martial arts that transcends into the mystical, jus...
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter One
Broken Toys
The line of broken soldiers stretched out of the training pit and around the arena, spilling out onto the streets. They came in all types and sizes: men, women, tall, short, fat, emaciated, and with varying numbers of limbs. A few were fully armored, others only in loincloths. All looked like they had stared death in the face and wished not to have survived it.
Ling Taishi leaned over the balcony overlooking the pit. Most of the soldiers-volunteer fodder-kept their eyes low and their shoulders slumped, working hard to avoid attention and hide their defects, inside and out. Taishi could tell what ailed them with just a glance, not that she cared. She had run out of pity years ago. The more pressing thought on her mind as she scanned their ranks was how this rabble could possibly put up a fight against anyone.
An official with his beard trimmed and oiled to a point approached her, his gold-laced crimson robe flapping against his knees. The broccoli shape of his tall black hat placed him as the high lord of the palace. "It is time, emissary. Please allow me to escort you to your seat. I have arranged refreshments. Peaches from my own estates, harvested just a season ago and spirited here for your pleasure."
Taishi struggled to recall his name. "Thank you, Palacelord Faaru."
The palacelord led her across the balcony toward an elevated dais, rambling on about his stupid fruit the entire time. "They are so succulent you will believe it is nectar from heaven. My orchards are renowned among all of the Enlightened States."
Taishi's face drooped further with each passing description. If the man was as good with training boys as he was with selling fruit, the world could rest easy. Fortunately, it was a short walk to her seat. She sat down on a bed of cushions reserved for high-ranking officials and guests of the court. Taishi technically held no rank and belonged to no court. She had been sent here as an emissary by one of her former students, who also happened to be both her landlord and her actual lord. Saan, the Duke of Shulan, wanted her to appraise how the Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi's education was coming along. She had wanted to refuse the assignment, but the terms he offered were too good to pass up: tax exemption for life and not going to jail for refusing her duke. Taishi was not a big fan of taxes or imprisonment.
As soon as she settled in, the rest of the crowds on the balcony took their places in the tier below her platform. The arena was surprisingly packed for a simple training session. Taishi wondered how many in the audience were actually paid spectators. As Faaru had promised, a servant appeared with a platter of peaches piled in a pyramid, and placed it on the small table next to her. Taishi was tempted to grab one from the bottom, or better yet wave it off, but being old and irritable was no excuse for poor manners. She plucked the top one and absently bit into it as the guards below cleared the training pit. She stopped and stared at the golden juice sticking to her fingers. By the Queen's rotted ovaries, the man wasn't lying. These are damn good peaches.
The palacelord appeared out of nowhere and hovered nearby as she gnawed on the peach, his eyes staring intently. He was sneaky for such a large man. Taishi fought the urge to spit the peach out and sour her face, but there was no sense in wasting quality fruit. She had to give the man his due and so offered him a slight tilt of his head. The palacelord beamed.
The training session was about to begin. Somewhere above, drums rumbled as the lazy and scattered applause from the crowd betrayed their true enthusiasm for the event. Taishi failed to mask her growing irritation. She checked the water clock at the time table. It was nearly noon. Half the day was already wasted.
The first group of toy soldiers paraded into the pit and milled about, uncertain and disorganized. They were ten volunteers in a random assortment of weapons and armor, no two looking like they belonged in the same unit. Taishi pitied this pathetic bunch, these loyal soldiers of the States who hadn't died in the war, but hadn't necessarily survived it either. Now they were left to eke out a living the only way they could: becoming training toys to a boy playing war. There was the pikeman with the distant stare. The swordswoman with the shaking hands. The young man missing the rest of his arm below the elbow cowering behind her . . . Taishi shifted her own mangled arm hanging useless by her side. Well, one should never underestimate a cripple.
The training overseer stood and clapped his hands. "You all have the honor of aiding in the training of the undefeated Champ...
Broken Toys
The line of broken soldiers stretched out of the training pit and around the arena, spilling out onto the streets. They came in all types and sizes: men, women, tall, short, fat, emaciated, and with varying numbers of limbs. A few were fully armored, others only in loincloths. All looked like they had stared death in the face and wished not to have survived it.
Ling Taishi leaned over the balcony overlooking the pit. Most of the soldiers-volunteer fodder-kept their eyes low and their shoulders slumped, working hard to avoid attention and hide their defects, inside and out. Taishi could tell what ailed them with just a glance, not that she cared. She had run out of pity years ago. The more pressing thought on her mind as she scanned their ranks was how this rabble could possibly put up a fight against anyone.
An official with his beard trimmed and oiled to a point approached her, his gold-laced crimson robe flapping against his knees. The broccoli shape of his tall black hat placed him as the high lord of the palace. "It is time, emissary. Please allow me to escort you to your seat. I have arranged refreshments. Peaches from my own estates, harvested just a season ago and spirited here for your pleasure."
Taishi struggled to recall his name. "Thank you, Palacelord Faaru."
The palacelord led her across the balcony toward an elevated dais, rambling on about his stupid fruit the entire time. "They are so succulent you will believe it is nectar from heaven. My orchards are renowned among all of the Enlightened States."
Taishi's face drooped further with each passing description. If the man was as good with training boys as he was with selling fruit, the world could rest easy. Fortunately, it was a short walk to her seat. She sat down on a bed of cushions reserved for high-ranking officials and guests of the court. Taishi technically held no rank and belonged to no court. She had been sent here as an emissary by one of her former students, who also happened to be both her landlord and her actual lord. Saan, the Duke of Shulan, wanted her to appraise how the Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi's education was coming along. She had wanted to refuse the assignment, but the terms he offered were too good to pass up: tax exemption for life and not going to jail for refusing her duke. Taishi was not a big fan of taxes or imprisonment.
As soon as she settled in, the rest of the crowds on the balcony took their places in the tier below her platform. The arena was surprisingly packed for a simple training session. Taishi wondered how many in the audience were actually paid spectators. As Faaru had promised, a servant appeared with a platter of peaches piled in a pyramid, and placed it on the small table next to her. Taishi was tempted to grab one from the bottom, or better yet wave it off, but being old and irritable was no excuse for poor manners. She plucked the top one and absently bit into it as the guards below cleared the training pit. She stopped and stared at the golden juice sticking to her fingers. By the Queen's rotted ovaries, the man wasn't lying. These are damn good peaches.
The palacelord appeared out of nowhere and hovered nearby as she gnawed on the peach, his eyes staring intently. He was sneaky for such a large man. Taishi fought the urge to spit the peach out and sour her face, but there was no sense in wasting quality fruit. She had to give the man his due and so offered him a slight tilt of his head. The palacelord beamed.
The training session was about to begin. Somewhere above, drums rumbled as the lazy and scattered applause from the crowd betrayed their true enthusiasm for the event. Taishi failed to mask her growing irritation. She checked the water clock at the time table. It was nearly noon. Half the day was already wasted.
The first group of toy soldiers paraded into the pit and milled about, uncertain and disorganized. They were ten volunteers in a random assortment of weapons and armor, no two looking like they belonged in the same unit. Taishi pitied this pathetic bunch, these loyal soldiers of the States who hadn't died in the war, but hadn't necessarily survived it either. Now they were left to eke out a living the only way they could: becoming training toys to a boy playing war. There was the pikeman with the distant stare. The swordswoman with the shaking hands. The young man missing the rest of his arm below the elbow cowering behind her . . . Taishi shifted her own mangled arm hanging useless by her side. Well, one should never underestimate a cripple.
The training overseer stood and clapped his hands. "You all have the honor of aiding in the training of the undefeated Champ...
