Natalie Naudus has plenty of opportunity to shine as the narrator of this audiobook. It’s the first installment of The War Arts Saga, inspired by martial arts films with magic thrown in for good measure. The Chosen One, Jian, has been raised in luxury with a cadre of warriors to instruct him. Naudus has no trouble making clear that he is a spoiled brat. Eventually, he becomes the student of a one-armed grandmaster of magical martial arts who is feisty as can be and determined to make a warrior out of him. The grandmaster is one of three strong female characters, and Naudus creates nuanced personas for them all. The interaction among the characters is delightfully spirited, and snarky comments abound. J.E.M. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award, 2023 Audies Finalist © AudioFile 2022, Portland, Maine
The Art of Prophecy: A Novel
Narrated by Natalie Naudus
Wesley ChuUnabridged — 18 hours, 41 minutes
The Art of Prophecy: A Novel
Narrated by Natalie Naudus
Wesley ChuUnabridged — 18 hours, 41 minutes
Overview
“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
ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: Gizmodo, Kirkus Reviews, The Quill to Live
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
04/11/2022
Bestseller Chu (The Lives of Tao) opens his ambitious War Arts Saga series with one-armed, aging Ling Taishi, the “greatest war arts master of her generation,” taking on a new student, Wen Jian. Jian is the Chosen One, prophesied to defeat the Eternal Kahn, immortal god-king of the Katuia Hordes, and Taishi offers to prepare him for this task—just in time to learn that the Kahn is already dead. Taishi, desperate not to repeat the failures that lead to her son’s death, hides Jian in a war arts school while she travels across the Enlightened States to discover why the prophecy fell through. Though Act I seems like by-the-numbers wuxia built on the tired trope of an unqualified man unbelievably surpassing a skilled woman at her life’s work, things pick up as the focus shifts from bland hero Jian onto a number of fascinating female characters, including two who want to kill him: Salminde “Sali” the Viperstrike of the Katuia, who seeks both her missing sister and the reincarnation of the Khan; and the mercurial Maza Qisami, an expert assassin known as a shadowkill. The epic scope of the worldbuilding, along with the sheer number of fight scenes, will delight Chu’s fans. Agent: Russell Galen, Scovil Galen Gosh Literary. (Aug.)
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, just as this grandiose epic fantasy adventure transcends the page and comes alive in your mind.”—Peter V. Brett, New York Times bestselling author of The Desert Prince
“[The Art of Prophecy] is squarely directed at kung fu, wuxia, and wire-fu fans who adore Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; Hero; The Legend of Drunken Master; Kung Fu Hustle, and the like, providing a story with an epic sweep punctuated with dashes of humor and sharp-edged banter. . . . Dramatic, fun, thoughtful, clever, and (literally) punchy.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Chu’s wry prose and characters are a delightful counterpoint to the physical and emotional demands undertaken by Jian and his allies, while the subplots build a vast panoramic view of this incredible world in the first of a new series.”—Library Journal
07/01/2022
Magic, martial arts, prophecy, and fallacy all contribute to one young man's attempt to rebuild his life's worth. Wen Jian has known his entire young life that he is the Hero of Prophecy, foretold to defeat the Eternal Khan and save the kingdom. Every person around him has told him that it was his destiny to be the greatest warrior to the Enlightened States, to live at the Celestial Palace, and be trained and celebrated by the greatest masters. Except Jian has never won a battle—the prophecy was wrong, and he is sentenced to death. After being saved by a former magical grandmaster, Jian finds himself on a new journey, one that will be the opposite of the indulged and opulent life he had, but which could actually lead him to be the hero his realm needs. VERDICT Chu's (The Fall of Io) wry prose and characters are a delightful counterpoint to the physical and emotional demands undertaken by Jian and his allies, while the subplots build a vast panoramic view of this incredible world in the first of a new series.—Kristi Chadwick
Natalie Naudus has plenty of opportunity to shine as the narrator of this audiobook. It’s the first installment of The War Arts Saga, inspired by martial arts films with magic thrown in for good measure. The Chosen One, Jian, has been raised in luxury with a cadre of warriors to instruct him. Naudus has no trouble making clear that he is a spoiled brat. Eventually, he becomes the student of a one-armed grandmaster of magical martial arts who is feisty as can be and determined to make a warrior out of him. The grandmaster is one of three strong female characters, and Naudus creates nuanced personas for them all. The interaction among the characters is delightfully spirited, and snarky comments abound. J.E.M. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award, 2023 Audies Finalist © AudioFile 2022, Portland, Maine
★ 2022-06-08
A prophecy is unexpectedly foiled and a chosen hero cast adrift in this first of a fantasy trilogy inspired by Chinese martial arts films.
Elderly, one-armed, but still incredibly able war artist Ling Taishi is invited to view the progress of the Champion of the Five Under Heaven, prophesied to be the doom of the Eternal Khan, foe of the Zhuun Empire. Taishi discovers that the so-called hero, Wen Jian, is a poorly trained spoiled brat; nevertheless, she sees some potential in him and resolves to train the boy herself. Then a Zhuun foot patrol blunders into the naked, profoundly drunk Khan and kills him themselves, turning Jian into a political liability and forcing the new master-disciple team to go on the run. Under an assumed name, Jian toils resentfully as a novice and servant at a war artist school; Taishi dodges assassins and searches for the temple where the prophecy was made to learn how and why it failed. Meanwhile, Salminde, an elite warrior and close friend of the late Khan, looks first for her sister and then for some way of helping her people, forced into indentured servitude in the aftermath of the Khan’s death. Author Chu uses his knowledge and experience as a martial artist, stuntman, and actor to craft an exceptionally easy-to-visualize work with expertly blocked fight sequences; it’s impossible not to picture how everything would look on screen (of course, the trilogy has already been optioned for television). This novel is squarely directed at kung fu, wuxia, and wire-fu fans who adore Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; Hero; The Legend of Drunken Master; Kung Fu Hustle, and the like, providing a story with an epic sweep punctuated with dashes of humor and sharp-edged banter. Although Jian provides the initial spark for the plot, the novel is marvelously dominated by strong women, including the hot-tempered and fierce Taishi, who occasionally learns that rudeness is not always the best policy; the passionate, grieving Salminde, searching for meaning after her world has ended; and the mercurial, psychopathic shadow assassin Maza Qisami.
Dramatic, fun, thoughtful, clever, and (literally) punchy.
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940176291773 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Penguin Random House |
| Publication date: | 08/09/2022 |
| Series: | The War Arts Saga , #1 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
| Sales rank: | 1,157,728 |
Read an Excerpt
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 Champion of the Five Under Heaven, the terror of the Katuia Hordes, and the savior of the Zhuun people. Fight bravely, but remember your place. The penalty for injuring him is death. The penalty for drawing his blood is death. The penalty for refusing to engage is death.” The overseer continued, rambling off another ten or fifteen rules. By the time he was done, Taishi wasn’t sure how any fighting was possible. “Any questions?” he intoned.
The small group looked dejected, and as baffled as she was. One woman wearing half the banded armor of a light cavalry unit raised her spear. “What if he’s about to kill us?”
“Then die honorably. Try not to if you want to get paid.”
“Wait,” another asked. “He can attack us, but we can’t attack him?” This had to be his first day.
The training overseer sounded hassled. “Of course you are allowed to fight back. Just don’t injure him.”
Faaru leaned in. “Are you enjoying the delicacies, emissary?” Her muffled slurp was answer enough. She helped herself to a second peach and slipped a third into her pocket. He gestured toward the pile of peaches. “If you wish for more, emissary, you need only ask.”
The palacelord was being awfully pushy about his silly fruit. Then she noticed the decorations on the plate. A long string of gold liang looping through the peaches at the base. The coins, ducalstamped from the Gyian mint, formed a glimmering yellow snake linked together through each liang’s square hole. That much money was more than enough to pay off most emissaries. Far too generous, in fact, which made Taishi only more suspicious. She looked back at Faaru, and his smile widened until the corners of his mouth nearly touched his long earlobes.
There was a reason Saan had sent her instead of the usual court buffoon. Taishi ignored the bribe and turned her attention back to the pit. “Get on with this. I have other things to do with my day.” Like soaking my feet in a hot bucket.
He stiffened and gestured to the overseer. “As you wish, emissary.”
The overseer began to speak again, his voice carrying across the arena. “Behold, Wen Jian, the Prophesied Hero of Legend, the savior of the Zhuun people, the one foretold by the Tiandi Prophets, under the sign of a thousand stars, to fulfill his destiny and lead the mighty armies of the Enlightened States to victory over the terrible, evil, savage hordes of the Katuia Clans, break the immortality of their Eternal Khan, and bring everlasting peace to the Children of Zhuun. Bear witness . . .”
Taishi rolled her eyes. So much stupid pomp. She mouthed silently and carried her whisper on the wind to the man’s ear. “Skip the rest.”
The overseer’s voice cracked. He glanced around and then cleared his throat. “Let the round begin.”
There were still a few seconds of excessive drumbeating and fanfare before the gates below the balcony finally opened. Five imposing figures in heavy armor cut long shadows into the sand. They wore elaborate helmets shaped like animal heads, which she thought was a nice touch, and moved with the swagger of opera villains. They looked like the guardians of the gate to some mystic zoo. Taishi was entertained.
Meanwhile, the sacrificial lambs on the other side of the arena looked as if they were about to soil themselves. Following the five horned warriors appeared a much more diminutive figure, but to much greater applause. About damn time. Taishi crossed her arms and leaned forward. She had met many legendary masters in her day, but this was the first time she was going to see a legend.
Her initial impression of the Hero of Prophecy was lukewarm. The hero everyone was fawning over was a scrawny teenager wearing only black breeches cut off just below the knee. His skinny chest was defined but flat, his arms were taut but stick-thin, and his skin was pale as ox milk. His black headband made his dark hair stick out like a bird’s nest, but his round boyish face was clean and manicured.
“Put a shirt on before you blind someone,” she muttered.
Her first thought was that it was strange for the hero to be so lightly armored compared with his bodyguards, but of course a teacher couldn’t check a student’s form and technique under several layers of armor.
The boy flourished his sword above his head, and then moved his hands apart to reveal that it was in fact two identical blades. He twirled the two swords around his body and loosed a reasonable attempt at a war cry, his voice cracking at the tail end.
Taishi raised an eyebrow. “This should be interesting.”
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