Prophecy for the Warlord: Light of Adua, #2

By Brien Feathers

— A dark champion rises on the eve of total destruction —

Six months after the Easter events that ravaged a town and altered the future, Elder command is overwhelmed, attempting to divert the ancient cycle of possession, resurrection, and infection.

The fire prince lives on within the fractured consciousness of Drake, affecting his whole temperament and challenging his once unrivaled feelings for a mortal.

Meanwhile, Ana struggles, still, to comprehend immortal Talent as a daunting force arises from the Light to challenge her.

Engaged in a losing battle with the dark Queen herself, Warlord Sasuke finds his armor full of chinks and chaos impending . . . 

In a world of prophecy, great danger, and depleting time, a human now, alone, may hold the key to true salvation.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brien Feathers
• Release date: Jan 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9789919262303

Brien Feathers

Dark fantasy author, poet, screenwriter, and cat enthusiast living in the land of Mongols.

Book preview

Prophecy for the Warlord

Light of Adua, Book II

Brien Feathers

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Brien Feathers

Copyright © 2022 by Brien Feathers

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Book cover created by Karen Dimmick at ArcaneCovers.com

Contents

Houses of the Realms

Elders of High Council

1. War Awaits

2. A Perfect Ka

3. Conspiracy in a Lounge

4. Child of Fire

5. Possession

6. Resurrection

7. Warrior of Light

8. Sayer

9. Black Sword

10. Perfect Proportions

11. Prophecy

12. Immortal Master

13. An Origami Bird

14. Wolf

15. An Ayasu

16. Master’s Notebook

17. Draw Weight

18. Sermon

19. Tamed with Love

20. Terrible Tea

21. Darkness, Below and Beyond

22. Queen Takes the Knight

23. Crescent Moon

24. Thank You

25. Fortress of the Sun

26. A Problem

27. Benevolence

28. Infection

29. Die Well, My Lord

30. Grace of Life

31. Devotion

32. Sugar Rock, Again

33. Midnight

Vanity of the Whisperer

From The Author

A Final Note

Houses of the Realms

House of Mind, Ka- telepaths and telekinetics both belong here.

House of Strength, Djed- are shifters.

House of Death, Osairi- are necromancers, and are called Puppet Masters.

House of Soul, Suns- are empaths who read and evoke emotions.

House of Realm, Zhai- realm benders are teleporters.

House of Fire, Ignis- has an ability to ignite and manipulate fire.

House of Air, Aeria- can control airflow.

House of Mirrors, Kage- can cloak (make an object invisible), and project illusions.

House of Light, Hikari- a fallen House of healers and spell masters.

Elders of High Council

Ayasu Sasuke, a Creator from House of Mind, he’s a telepath with the ability to construct a telepathic arena to host a consciousness of another. Such a space is called a Cellar.

Giselle Lavigne, a teleporter from House of Realm, she’s the wife of Ayasu Sasuke.

Ayasu Drake, telekinetic from House of Mind, is the soul of the fire prince Lucretius Ignis.

Ayka Lenkov, a Whisperer from House of Mind, can issue a telepathic command to override human free will.

Souleymane son of Khan, also known as Souley, is a werewolf shifter of House of Strength.

Shen Zhao, the record keeper of the Council, is a shifter from House of Strength.

Dalila Sauda, an empath from House of Soul, can manipulate emotions in humans and Elders alike.

Marcus Annius Verus, House of Air, is the most powerful Aerian of the realm.

Kostya Kowalczyk, light bender from House of Mirrors, is the only civilian Elder to be seated at the council.

Crawford of House of Mirrors is deceased, killed by Ayasu Sasuke.

Nailah of House of Soul is deceased, killed by Ayasu Sasuke

Chapter one

War Awaits

A hallway, but not his castle. A shadow flickered and he reached for his sword, but didn’t have his weapon on him—so he looked at his empty hands. He didn’t know where this was. He passed by an open room, and inside it saw a woman sleeping.

He thought he was looking for a woman, but that wasn’t her.

Sasuke? A man’s voice called from behind, but as Sasuke turned he saw a woman dressed in Chinese attire. It wasn’t her, either, but why call him so disrespectfully? Men had died for less, but this one was a woman. So Sasuke let it be. He wasn’t in a mood for killing women, not yet anyway.

Then the woman spoke in a foreign tongue, but not Chinese. Sasuke recalled speaking to a Chinese envoy about the Wokou; they’d come to complain about the Japanese pirates, but it was their affair to secure their own shores. The envoy tried to compel him and Sasuke had threatened to kill him. That was how that meeting went, but Sasuke remembered what the Chinese tongue sounded like. Especially when they were running away and screaming.

Father, we must leave. His younger son was watching him, and he had his weapon on him.

Where is my katana?

He remembered he was leaving. But there was something he was supposed to do before he left. What was it? He’d been keeping notes in a little book; he would look for it but didn’t want to appear confused in front of the Chinese.

Father? His boy was impatient, his brow furrowed in seriousness. The boy worried too much, questioned him all the time, always had a mouth on him—but that was why the boy was his favorite. He’d never told him that, one of the things he’d regretted. Sasuke remembered the boy being dead. But that couldn’t be, he was looking right at him.

Father, time is short.

Yes, yes, Takamoto, I know, Sasuke said. Where is your brother?

He arrives tomorrow with the reinforcements. Same as Hirofusa, said his boy. But we must take the fortress before the Tokugawa arrive.

Yes, Sasuke knew. It was his plan, but his boy was always trying to school him in warfare. Sasuke scoffed; the boy had fire—that was certain. He followed his boy, who seemed to know where he was going. They went down some stairs—this was not a fortress. Sasuke thought he knew what it was called, a plantation, but he’d forgotten what that was.

The woman followed them. Sasuke didn’t like her behind him. He would ask who she was and why she followed, but he didn’t want to appear confused. So he let that be. Chinese or not, she was only a woman, and unarmed.

Sasuke. The woman addressed him improperly, again. Do you see your son? Does he speak to you? She did speak Japanese, fluently so. Fine for her, then she would understand this.

Keep your distance, address me properly. Your manners are poor, said Sasuke. Woman or not, others have lost their head for a lesser offense.

My apologies, My Lord, she said with a proper bow. She followed him still but kept her distance.

Where am I going, where is Takamoto?

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A golden doorway appeared in a long hallway, and a tall woman walked out of it followed by a strange boy. The boy had red hair, and Sasuke thought he was his son, although he didn’t look like a child Sasuke would sire, but who knew as far as that went. Sasuke smirked. Yeah, who knew. He certainly didn’t. He was looking at the strangest woman he’d ever seen, with terrible yellow hair, but he knew he’d been with her. The woman had green eyes, one darker than the other.

Ah, there you are.

That was who he’d been looking for. He meant to say something to her. What was it?

Father?

Wait. You will wait. Sasuke had turned to his son as he’d said it and the woman looked to Takamoto as well—then she looked frightened. He hadn’t meant to frighten her. He loved her.

What am I to say to you?

The woman spoke to him, but he only understood his name Sasuke. The rest was nonsense to him. People had been saying nonsense, sometimes. Other times he understood them fine.

He held her hand. What am I to say to you? Why couldn’t he remember things? That had been happening for a while. That was why he kept a notebook, but the time to be looking for such things had passed. War waited, he had to leave. But he would say farewell to his woman first.

More shadows flickered but they were just his men. He could hear horses whinnying, metal rattling, hooves trotting—his men were waiting. Yet he had a hard time leaving her.

Father, she’s a foreigner, said Eiko. You dishonor our mother’s memory, carrying such affection for her. His daughter complained much and often looked sour, but he loved her all the same. She just took after her mother, and that wasn’t her fault.

But your mother is alive, Eiko, he said and saw the girl vanish in his peripheral. Where had she come from, anyway? His son-in-law was coming. Hirofusa was pledged to Sasuke and bringing his army to meet the Tokugawa alongside him.

Hirofusa was a fool, but he wouldn’t bring Sasuke’s daughter to war, would he?

Sasuke, who are you speaking to? The strange woman with green eyes spoke Japanese. Sasuke laughed, it was amusing because her language was bad. She didn’t speak any Japanese—none at all—when she first came to him through the golden doorway. She’d fallen out of the sky into the water.

She couldn’t cook, wouldn’t clean, raised her voice at him all the time. Wouldn’t even lie with him because she was a thing called a nun, and that had continued for well over a century. But even with all her terribleness, she’d always kept him company. Not a nun anymore, but his wife, and they’d been together for hundreds of years… and he couldn’t remember her name.

But why centuries of memories? I’m not that old.

His memory had been fickle recently, perhaps that was it. War waited, but he would spare time to speak to his woman. For there was always war—war with enemies, war with allies, war with family, war with self, war with death, war with the world—till she came to him. She’d brought him peace. Sasuke held the back of her neck and pulled her to him, brought her forehead to touch his.

Thank you for bringing me peace. But I must leave now, and I’m sorry. Sasuke closed his eyes for a moment to feel her warmth on his face, her heartbeat in his hand.

She’d been a good woman for him—wouldn’t let him die, wouldn’t let him fail. She was his soul, and it burdened him to be leaving her. But there was no room for such weakness, so he let her go. His men waited, his enemies waited. His peace was done. Time for war.

Sasuke, where are you going?

He laughed at her Japanese one more time and took his sword from his boy who held it out to him with both hands. That was where his katana was, it’d been with his boy.

Sasuke! The woman grabbed his arm, but Sasuke yanked it from her and marched after his son.

Nobuyasa handed Sasuke his helmet. There was an open field beyond the door and the sound of restless hooves circling, weapons clanking, men yelling. His banner flew, his war called. She called to him like a fine concubine, and he always came to her because that was what he was, a warlord.

Sasuke! Where are you going? the woman screamed after him.

He didn’t look back at her as he said, War, woman, war! Sasuke tied his helmet, secured his weapon, and stepped out through the door.

He wouldn’t have time to siege with the Tokugawa approaching. He would have but a single day to take the fortress. Sasuke looked at the map Nobuyasa showed him.

His men were already in position. Sasuke stepped out to look up at the sun; they had been in a marquee. Daylight falls, darkness soon.

We take it tonight, he said.

Surprise attack then, My Lord? Nobuyasa grinned.

Aren’t all attacks a surprise? Sasuke feigned surprise. They must be, for I see men be surprised to die, all the time.

Even though they see you coming, My Lord?

Even though they see me coming, Nobuyasa.

Then you’ve been fighting fools, My Lord. Nobuyasa smiled with a small tilt of his neck to the side. "But everyone who fights you is a fool, My Lord."

Sasuke laughed. Nobuyasa was funny. His father had been a fool and had to be put down, but the boy had more sense—Sasuke had beaten it into him. Nobuyasa was a fine samurai now, funny even, and Sasuke liked him.

He killed my boy, Sasuke thought, then frowned upon his own mind. Takamoto was alive. Nobuyasa was loyal. It was his own mind that was false.

Chapter two

A Perfect Ka

The bedroom ceiling was white. But it looked soft beige in the yellow light cast by the bedside lamp. Ana’s brunette hair flowed down her shoulders, deep brown and auburn against the fawn of the backdrop. She looked down at him, arched a single eyebrow, then flung her hair up, trying to be seductive. Drake laughed because it didn’t work, not on her. She slapped him on his bare chest, and it stung.

Are you making of fun me?

No! Drake laughed, and Ana was laughing as well.

You’re such an asshole. She swung a single leg over to get off him and collapsed next to him—face first—and grunted. This was why she wasn’t sexy. She was beautiful, and they weren’t always the same.

As much as they tried to make light of the situation, Drake had been uninspired more often than not. Ana turned to him and blew a strand of hair off her eyes, but the hair landed right back on her face.

How’s your training? Drake asked.

Ana closed her hand for a moment, and when she opened it, she held sunlight the size of a candle flame in her palm. She smiled as she did so. She’d thought it was impressive, and it had been a great feat when she first held it—four or five months ago.

He’s going to murder us.

Drake was to oversee Ana’s training and this wasn’t going well. It wasn’t going to end well, either. Three days till Shannon’s birthday. Three days till the High Council meeting. Three days till his commander arrived to find the guardian’s performance unsatisfactory.

Three more days and we’ll be murdered, Ana.

Drake thought to spend his remaining days getting laid, biting women, and drinking whiskey. He’d stopped biting Ana because he thought perhaps that was interfering with her training, but that hadn’t been it. He couldn’t get laid because his cock wouldn’t work. So he would drink whiskey for three days.

Her light was an effect Drake could produce with a Zippo lighter, her archery wasn’t going well if hitting the target was one of the requirements, and her history and lore weren’t going well because she wouldn’t read. Ana kept brewing tea from a cactus called peyote, drinking it every day and calling that a vision. So, murder—three days.

Sasuke himself was overseeing Ana’s Ka training, so her trips would be true visions, Drake supposed. Otherwise, they would have been murdered sooner.

Drake didn’t know why Ana had picked archery as her weapons art. Guns would have been much easier, then at least someone could tell Ana that aiming was a thing. Then Drake reneged on the thought because the men who would know of guns—the guards—were all recruited for the containment effort. Shannon was ill tempered, sometimes. She was a miniaturized version of Sasuke, perhaps that was why they got along so fine. Shannon wouldn’t kill Ana, but she would strike her in the face with the butt of a gun.

Then Drake would have to have a talk with Shannon, and him, the child would shoot in the face. Even then, Drake wouldn’t be able to discipline the child. She was favored by Sasuke enough that the commander would come from Japan to attend her birthday. He’d just happened to call the council on the same day as not to make the trip to Houma twice.

How’s your archery going? Drake asked, even though he knew.

Good. Ana smiled because she didn’t know.

Murder. Three days.

Drake’s memory of the Guardian Realm came and went. The duality of his soul remained; the split felt more prominent on some days than on others. It was most noticeable when he thought of Irsen Hikari, guardian of the fallen realm.

Remembering Irsen, Drake sighed. He knew Irsen had a bow, and hoped that wasn’t why Ana picked archery. He hoped she didn’t compare herself to the Hikari guardian. Ana sometimes styled her hair with Hikari-blue ribbon braided in; it was the way Irsen used to have his hair. Another sigh came.

Ten thousand years Ana could have to train but she would never approach Irsen.

Lucretius, prince of Fire, whose soul Drake possessed, had loved the Hikari guardian, and intensely so. Drake felt it whenever he thought of the dead guardian and it was distracting, making the duality more prominent. He’d tried to suppress all memories of that realm and its guardian. It bothered him that Ana chose the exact blue of the Hikari House banner to braid into her hair. It bothered him that she mentioned Irsen’s name all the time. It bothered him more that he’d asked her multiple times not to do it, and it bothered him the most that she still did it. She didn’t hear him. She never listened.

It bothered him that she wouldn’t read the Elder Volumes. It bothered him further that her archery was crap. It bothered him still that her light was weak. The girl clearly had vision, but that was the entirety of her ability. How useful that ability was, Sasuke would know, but it was beyond Drake.

Her thoughts were simple. Much simpler than he’d noticed in Courtesy, Maine. Ana wasn’t dim, she was fine when she spoke of human things. But Elder concepts, the girl did not grasp. Drake would say it was because she was human, and young, and it would be true of certain complexities such as time differential between realms, but the ideas Ana seemed to struggle with were the basics the house maître d’ Adeleke could recite.

So it was just that Ana didn’t study, wouldn’t try, didn’t want to. Drake tried to make light of the situation, every day, but he knew the condition of the containment effort. It was stretched thin and would break soon.

Drake sighed, again, his thoughts were running off, again. He meant to rein them in and smile at Ana. He would have dropped the resentment, and even try to please her had she not just asked, When is Sasuke coming? Is it two days or three? I’ve been calling him, but he hasn’t answered me today. Do you know why? Did you speak to him today?

No. He had not. It had been weeks since he spoke to his commander last. Telepathic communication was suspended indefinitely because of the dark Ka presence in the realm; communication was no longer secure. When Drake called Sasuke’s home on the phone, his commander was always unavailable.

One, it made him resent that she spoke to his commander more often than him. Two, it reminded him of Ana’s blatant infatuation with Sasuke. That cart would roll down the hill, crash and burn all on its own. It was just a matter of time, but it still annoyed him.

Once there was an Elder whose name wasn’t Giselle. The Elder had been a soldier who loved Sasuke. It had been during the Elder War and the commander had sent that soldier to her death. She did love you, Drake said to Sasuke afterward, whose reply had been, Don’t they all? And that was Sasuke to all women who weren’t his wife.

It was one more thing Ana had yet to learn. Keep piling items on that cart, and soon an elephant wouldn’t pull it. It would collapse the earth with its weight. Drake knew he was being over dramatic, so he got up.

He’d gather his clothes, step out, and let Ana sleep. He’d had enough of his thoughts draining blood from his dick—which had been happening a lot as of late. It was enough for one day, there would be more of it the next day.

Three days to live, much whiskey to be drunk. He would get on that now.

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Upstairs, the plantation hallway had gold patterned red carpet and grey walls with heavy moldings on the door frames and ceiling, as well as the floor. Dark wooden furniture including a grandfather clock and a sofa chair lined the wall space in between the doors. A giant chandelier which may well be made of antlers and candlesticks hung dead center from the ceiling.

Drake had carried his sweatpants and t-shirt out into the hall and got dressed there after he closed the bedroom door. He wanted to speak to Sasuke.

Nighttime in Houma would be daytime in Aoiro, so hopefully he wouldn’t get the usual Master Sasuke is sleeping when he called.

Drake had gotten a portable phone, but he kept forgetting to leave it tied to the wall, and it would often stop working. So now he always kept it tied, and just took it when he left the house.

Adeleke had tried to sell Drake a better phone, but when he looked at it there were too many functions, and it was too confusing. Drake didn’t understand why there needed to be a video on a phone or where it all came from. There were endless videos of… everything.

The internet, Drake, Adeleke had said, as if that was a place he would know. Wherever that was, it had too many things. Drake didn’t understand how telepathy worked and he was a Ka, so he had no intention of learning where the internet was or how it worked. He knew it couldn’t be that hard because Ana could use it fine. He just didn’t want to spend time learning it. He had better things to do, like drink more whiskey.

As it turned out, Drake liked phones even less than telepathy. Before heading downstairs to call Sasuke’s home, he would try calling his commander the old-fashioned way. He closed his eyes as he stood in the hallway.

Sasuke?

No answer, not even to threaten him for breaking the order of radio silence.

I’m a Ka, thought Drake. The entire spectrum of telepathic Talents and telekinesis were essentially the same Talent of the same House, Ka.

I am a Perfect Ka, he said to himself. Of course, there was no such thing, not even in the Guardian Realm. Ka Talent was too great for a single mind to wield all and was fractured, always. Even so, Drake thought it, and tried to imagine himself a telepath.

In his mind, he saw a heavy oak door suspended in the dark, illuminated as if there was a spotlight on it. No handle on the outside, but a sigil of a single eye welded in iron— colored copper with rust. Ka.

In his mind, Drake imagined a hand, and knocked. No answer.

Sasuke, I have nude pictures of Giselle. No answer. All right, I’m going to put them on the internet now. Drake waited.

Not Sasuke’s door. Probably not even a door. Drake wasn’t a telepath, and no Ka was a Perfect Ka. Great, telephone it was, then.

He would go to his lounge. It hosted both a telephone and whiskey.

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The plantation was quiet at night, quiet enough for him to hear Ayka whimpering as he walked down the hall—and he hadn’t even passed by her door.

He ran there, turned the handle and pushed with his hand. The door was locked. He thought, Push, with his mind and the door went flying inward, ripping completely off the hinge. Ayka screamed.

Her room was dark and it would take too long for his sight to adjust back to dark, so he turned the light on. Ayka sat up, yanking the cover over herself.

What the hell! Ayka yelled and her face was red which made her freckles darker.

Feeling flushed made his own freckles darker as well, a thing he heard often from girls, when his dick still worked. They’d say it was cute when he blushed.

Are you all right? Drake asked.

No, Drake! Get the hell out! What the hell!

I heard you crying. Are you having bad dreams? he asked, and saw her expression soften.

No, Brother. I’m fine.

A vanishing piece of underwear caught Drake’s attention. It had been on the floor, which he hadn’t noticed, but the sudden disappearance made him notice. Then a shirt vanished from the chair.

I thought you were supposed to be in Poland, Kostya, said Drake.

An entire osada wsi had vanished there. Buildings were untouched but the people were gone. The settlement had been small and isolated, and the neighboring villages noticed only when they were swamped with fleeing animals. Cats ran first. Dogs were less keen and would die barking. So that was a possession, at least. Resurrection would follow, and probably now a full blown infection; hence, the missing settlement.

Kostya, wearing a shirt and underwear, appeared. We’re leaving tomorrow.

All three words in that sentence pissed off Drake. First, we meant Ayka was leaving as well. Leaving because he hadn’t left. And tomorrow because that was not now.

What about the council, Ayka? said Drake. Sasuke asked for you to be here, specifically.

We don’t have enough Elders there, Ayka said. Kostya is not going alone. So I’m leaving. If there is a vote, you vote for me.

I can handle myself, Kostya said to which Drake and Ayka replied in unison, You’re a light bender.

Isn’t Pasha there? Drake asked.

He’s in Olsztyn, Ayka said.

We suspect a possession in Olsztyn! Drake had to gasp, for if memory served right that was over 150,000 people and Drake’s census knowledge of the region was outdated.

We’re hoping not, Ayka said. If the dark events start migrating to larger cities…

We’re fucked.

… but just as a caution, all the forces of the area have been pooled to Olsztyn, Ayka grunted, then pulled her cover to get up off the bed.

Are you still suspended, or what? She came closer to be louder and in his face when she yelled. Souley is so slow to respond! Speak to the commander! You should be running this!

I’m sorry!

I’m to watch over Ana, said Drake.

Oh, I meant to speak to you about that, Ayka said, peeking out the hallway, then whispered, Is she asleep?

I think so.

Okay, Brother. Go wait for me in your lounge. I’ll be right there. I’d say close the door but you broke that, so just leave and wait. She pointed at the door that lay on the ground as she said, That better be fixed before we get back, Brother.

Better fix your door before you leave, Kostya, Drake said, to which Kostya opened and closed his mouth without projecting words, appearing like a fish.

That amused Drake and elevated his mood a tiny bit as he went to find his whiskey.

Chapter three

Conspiracy in a Lounge

The hallway downstairs was more of the same except the walls were steel blue and had polished dark wood floors with white as snow spot rugs that were swept and brushed clean incessantly.

Drake went into the library room, not the great library where council meetings were held, but a smaller one that Drake had claimed for himself. Every room at the plantation could be either classified as a tea room, a library, or a bedroom. Every room came with its own bar area.

The Bo-so boat maker werewolf liked books, overnight guests, and serving tea and liquor to his overnight guests. Souley didn’t drink alcohol. He drank depot blood exclusively and took honey with his tea. They were both equally repulsive, but honey would be worse than chilled blood with chemicals, Drake supposed.

When he claimed this library, Drake had renamed the area lounge, even though the walls were basically bookshelves except for one wall which was a liquor shelf. Not being a book connoisseur himself, Drake thought it inappropriate that his claimed territory be a library. So, a lounge it was.

He didn’t know what color the walls were in his lounge because every inch of it was shelves, but it had a dark wood floor, light Persian rug, crimson chairs and sofa (because it was Souley’s house and the man was fond of crimson), a low coffee table at the center of the rug and sofa area, and a taller round table with a white lamp on it. Drake fixed himself a drink and sat on the sofa, putting his legs up on