Old Dragon's Head

Justin Newland

Description

Constructed of stone and packed earth, the Great Wall of 10,000 li protects China's northern borders from the threat of Mongol incursion. The wall is also home to a supernatural beast: the Old Dragon. The Old Dragon's Head is the most easterly point of the wall, where it finally meets the sea. In every era, a Dragon Master is born. Endowed with the powers of Heaven, only he can summon the Old Dragon so long as he possess the dragon pearl.It's the year 1400, and neither the Old Dragon, the dragon pearl, nor the Dragon Master, has been seen for twenty years. Bolin, a young man working on the Old Dragon's Head, suffers visions of ghosts. Folk believe he has yin-yang eyes and other paranormal gifts.When Bolin's fief lord, the Prince of Yan, rebels against his nephew, the Jianwen Emperor, a bitter war of succession ensues in which the Mongols hold the balance of power. While the victor might win the battle on earth, China's Dragon Throne can only be earned with a Mandate from Heaven - and the support of the Old Dragon.Bolin embarks on a journey of self-discovery, mirroring Old China's endeavour to come of age. When Bolin accepts his destiny as the Dragon Master, Heaven sends a third coming of age - for humanity itself. But are any of them ready for what is rising in the east?

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Historical fantasy
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 11 octobre 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781789012828
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Justin Newland was born in Essex, England, three days before the end of 1953. His love of literature began soon after, with swashbuckling sea stories, pirates and tales of adventure.
His taste in literature is eclectic from literary fiction and fantasy, to science fiction, with a special mention for the magical realists and the existentialists. Along the way, he was wooed by the muses of history, both ancient and modern, and then got happily lost in the labyrinths of mythology, religion and philosophy.
Undeterred by the award of a Doctorate in Mathematics from Imperial College, London, he found his way back to the creative keyboard and conceived his debut novel, The Genes of Isis (Matador, 2018), an epic fantasy set under Ancient Egyptian skies. The Old Dragon’s Head (Matador, 2018) is his second novel. The Coronation (Matador, 2019) is his third.
His stories add a touch of the supernatural to history and deal with the themes of war, religion, evolution and the human’s place in the universe.
He lives with his partner in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.
Reviews of The Old Dragon’s Head
“A stand out novel that ticks all the boxes – murder, mystery, treason, glorious villains, reluctant heroes and more than a touch of the supernatural.”
Discovering Diamonds.

“The author is an excellent storyteller.”
British Fantasy Society.

“History meets magic, culture meets supernatural… I would recommend this story to anyone who enjoys historical fiction with a twist.”
Books Beyond the Story.

“This is an exceptionally well-written book which takes one back to the China of 1400.”
That’s Books and Entertainment

“I absolutely loved the mix of fantasy elements well-rooted in Chinese history.”
Jessica Belmont

“I enjoyed the different perspectives and the magical realism.”
Rosie Cawkwell

“This book was part murder mystery and part fantasy with some fabulous villains and heroes.”
Over the Rainbow

“This isn’t your typical coming of age story – it’s filled with tough choices, unexpected surprises, and a destiny that’s bigger than anyone can imagine.”
The Faerie Review

“This epic story has it all – adventure, mystery, villains, the supernatural, and at its heart a true coming of age journey.”
Books and Emma

“This is a book of historical fantasy, but in terms of the fantasy, it is subtle, and firmly rooted in cultural beliefs and superstitions within the time period covered in the book.”
Book Mad Jo

“This is not just a fantasy book, this is a fantasy with history, murder, mystery, legend, myth and of course the supernatural. There are villains and heroes and action and adventure.”
Bookmarks and Stages



Copyright © 2018 Justin Newland

The moral right of the author has been asserted.


Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events 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.


Matador
9 Priory Business Park,
Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,
Leicestershire. LE8 0RX
Tel: [phone]
Email: [e-mail]
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
Twitter: @matadorbooks


ISBN 9781789012828

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
Nanjing, China.
In the Chinese Year of the Goat, 23rd January, 1368.
I, Zhu Yuanzhang, have expelled the Mongol invader. For too many winters, we have suffered at the hands of the barbarian. I will restore the greatness of China both in Heaven and on earth.
While my followers exhorted me to grasp the Mandate of Heaven, I dared not do so without a propitious sign.
Five days ago, on a cold, snowy day, I erected an altar of worship to the Supreme Cosmic Deity. I prayed that if the Lord on High approved of my new ruling house, then the appointed day of my enthronement – 23rd of January, 1368 – would be a bright day.
Today is that day and, miracle of miracles, the warm rays of the sun pierce the gloom and have melted the frozen earth. The Lord on High has heard my supplication. The Yang exerts itself upon the Yin. The order of the Tao is restored. Thus, I take my seat on the Dragon Throne.
As a bright day in Heaven means a bright day on earth, I name this the Ming – the Bright – Dynasty.

Zhu Yuanzhang, the Hongwu Emperor.
THE GREAT MING CODE
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
CHAPTER 1
The Fortress of Shanhaiguan
Shanhaiguan, the Eastern End of the Great Wall of China.
In the Second Year of the Reign of the Jianwen Emperor.
The Penultimate Day of the Year of the Rabbit, 1st February, 1400.
Bolin swooned and propped himself up against the metal railings. He rubbed his temples, hoping it would ease the shooting pains in his head. It didn’t. His vision was as blurred as the mists that rolled off the sea.
“Are you fit for work?” Wen railed at him. That was his new superior.
“Why, yes, Master Wen,” he said, adding an obsequious bow.
“Do you want to fail on your first day?” Wen snapped.
“N-no, of course not,” Bolin stammered. Behind them, one of the donkeys brayed and let out a huge fart, bringing smirks to the lips of the assembled apprentices, all except Bolin. This headache was more than a pain.
Wen scowled and said, “This is the most eastern end of the Great Wall of Ten Thousand Li and, in this province, I am its maintainer.” He puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. “This section, in the neck of land between the mountains and the sea, was built twenty years ago. Tomorrow is a special occasion and I want you to return it to its pristine condition.”
The apprentices made approving noises as he went on, “The Great Wall is made of more than stone and packed earth. Woe betide anyone I hear say otherwise! It is host to a living, breathing entity, the Old Dragon Laolong, and we are standing on the Old Dragon’s Head, the Laolongtou. Below us, this end section of the wall protrudes right into the sea. The old dragon is taking a cooling drink. Make sure you pay him the respect he deserves.”
That was Wen, the famous Master Builder. Folk said he breathed fire when raised to anger. Bolin wasn’t sure whether they were referring to Wen or the Laolong.
Wen bent his neck and glowered at them from beneath his brow, taking them in one by one.
“Other than me and the Laolong, the wall belongs to the military, the monks and the Great Wall Mummers. For you new conscripts, it’s the first time you’ve ever trodden its hallowed soil, so be warned. If you’re tempted to sneak your family up here for a quick view of the land of the barbarians, I will haul you before the county magistrate, who’ll parade you around in a tight-fitting cangue. You wouldn’t want to suffer that shame, now would you?”
While the workers hung their heads, Bolin wished he could appreciate the great honour of his newfound position. His headache was thumping like a gong in a Buddhist temple. Never before had he suffered like this.
He patted the donkey. On the cart were buckets, carrying poles, wheelbarrows, rakes, spades, tampers, rammers, as well as bags of lime and sand and gourds of muddy water; all the paraphernalia of repair and construction. The donkey was ready for work – Bolin was not.
A clutch of guards was clearing the twigs and leaves scattered over the road that ran along the length and breadth of the Great Wall, while another group furiously swept away the puddles deposited by the overnight storm. Some of the conscripts were gathering bits of wood and various belongings that lay strewn over the road, while others set about re-building the guards’ makeshift huts.
It was bitterly cold and Bolin rubbed his hands. The sea mists swirled across the fortress in huge curtains of moisture. The garrison commandant eyed their group with an air of studied suspicion and asked, “What brings you onto the wall road today, Master Wen?”
“Instructing more apprentices, Commandant Tung,” he replied with a curt bow.
“They’ve much to learn to match your dedication,” the commandant suggested. “Every day, y