You have to check out this excerpt from The Old Dragon’s Head by Justin Newland. Thank you to The Coffee Pot Book Club for inviting me to be a part of this tour.
The Old Dragon’s Head
By Justin Newland
By Justin Newland
The Great Wall of China may be constructed of stone and packed earth, but it is home to a supernatural beast – the Old Dragon. Both wall and dragon protect China’s northern borders from Mongol incursion. Just beyond the fortress of Shanhaiguan, the far eastern end of the wall protrudes into the Bohai Sea – that’s the Old Dragon’s Head.
Bolin, a young man working on the Old Dragon’s Head, suffers visions of ghosts. The local seer suspects that he has yin-yang eyes and other supernatural gifts. Bolin’s fief lord, the Prince of Yan, rebels against his nephew, the Jianwen Emperor. In the bitter war of succession, 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.
In every era, a man endowed with the powers of heaven – the Dragon Master – is born. Only he can summon the Old Dragon, providing he possesses the dragon pearl. It’s the year 1402, and neither the Old Dragon, the dragon pearl, nor the Dragon Master, has been seen for twenty years.
Bolin’s journey of self-discovery is mirrored by that of old China, as both 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?
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Luli’s Po Office was across the road from his house on Fuyuan Street. Healer, seer and geomancer, her intercession on the Laolongtou, when she had prevented them from harming the gulls, reminded him of just how high her reputation was in these parts.
He found himself walking across Fuyuan Street. What was he doing? Was he really going to seek her help? A magpie hopped along her threshold and then flew off, pursued by his mate. A pair of black and white birds: that was a good sign. He fingered his yin-yang coin charm; the black side with a white dot in the middle and a white side with a black dot in the middle. Yin and yang. The Tao had spoken to him. The magpies were a good omen: he was on the right path.
Luli opened the door, bowed and showed him in. The last time he’d entered her Po Office was when, as a youngster, he had played with Ru. Despite that, the familiar fresh smell of camphor wood wafted over him. Boxes and scrolls in one corner, crates in another, the shop was more or less as he remembered it. The pawned items were neatly labelled in small pigeonholes towards the back of the store. The room emanated a mysterious serenity, a sense of everything in its place and a place for everything. Bolin liked that. In a world of tumult and upheaval, such order, any order, was a welcome restraint.
“Master Bolin,” Luli said, wearing a long-sleeved turquoise gown. “You’ve come. What can I do for you?”
Was she expecting him? She had the foresight of yin-yang eyes, so perhaps she was. “Please, I need your help,” he muttered.
“Go on,” Luli replied.
“I’m frightened, Luli. It started with headaches, then strange dreams. Now I’m seeing and hearing strange things,” he admitted. There, he already felt better.
“What kind of things?”
“Dream visions, terrible things, they are so real, I wake up in a cold sweat. And there’s a hand clasped around my throat. I hear a man’s voice.”
“What does he say?”
“Phrases like ‘release me’ and ‘help me.’ I was convinced there was a demon inside me. Dong tried to exorcise it, but when it didn’t work, he told me I wasn’t possessed.”
“Did he?” Luli said, pacing the floor like a tigress. “I think I know what is happening to you.”
“You do? What is it? Tell me,” he blurted out.
“Can you show me your birthmark?” Luli asked.
“What? Why? I don’t understand.”
“You know I am the custodian of gifts and bequests left by my deceased customers – the soul donors. Some leave letters for their soul receiver. I’ve an inkling one of them is for you.”
“What’s that to do with my birthmark?” he asked, unmasking his exasperation.
“Please,” she replied. “Bear with me.”
“All right, it’s here,” he said, standing and lifting the lower part of his robe. “There, that squidgy mark above my right ankle.”
“Hah! See! It looks like a reptile; a salamander, possibly a dragon. Let me see if I have a match to it,” Luli said, searching the rows of boxes.
“A match? What are you talking about?”
“I’m the keeper of the Po Office, the house of restless souls,” she said, as her hands moved with swift dexterity along the rows of boxes and packets. “When a person dies, their Po or soul leaves their body and searches for another body to enter – the body of a baby about to be born. Along with the soul, the birthmark of the deceased also transfers to the newborn. It’s the distinguishing mark, the link between the two people, the soul donor and the soul receiver. When the soul donor leaves a gift or envelope for me to pass on to their soul receiver, they draw two things on it: the shape of their birthmark and where it appears on their person.”
“Fascinating,” he said. Dong had told him of the Taoist belief in the transmigration of souls. But to actually read correspondence from the donor of his soul, that was extraordinary and the last thing he had expected from this visit.
“Hah! Here it is!” Luli cried with an air of triumph and held up an envelope. “Yes. There’s a match, both in shape and position. This gives me immense satisfaction. I am a connection between two complete strangers whose lives overlapped simply because they shared the same soul and one of them is standing right in front of me. This letter is written by the hand of the person who donated their soul to you.”
“Are you sure?” He could barely believe it. The envelope she handed him felt like the most precious thing he’d ever received. In a way, it was.
“Yes, I am,” Luli encouraged him. “And please, you can open it.”
Hand shaking, he broke the wax seal.
“Who is it from?” Luli asked.
“How would I know that?” He shrugged.
“Look on the inside of the envelope. The sender should have inscribed his name there.”
He looked. It was blank.
“There’s no inscription.”
“Let me see,” Luli said, examining the envelope. “I always insist that the donor mark their name on the inside of the envelope. Oh dear, you’re right. There’s nothing. Only this note.”
“Let me have it,” he insisted. Incredible, his soul donor had left him a note. His heart pounding with anticipation and he read:
Doesn't this book sound amazing?! If you would like to grab yourself a copy then head over to your favourite online bookstore - Here!
Justin Newland
His novels speculate on the human condition and explore the fundamental questions of our existence. As a species, as Homo sapiens sapiens – that’s man the twice-wise – how are we doing so far? Where is mankind’s spiritual home? What does it look or feel like? Would we recognise it if we saw it?
Undeterred by the award of a Doctorate in Mathematics from Imperial College, London, he found his way to the creative keyboard and conceived his debut novel, The Genes of Isis (Matador, 2018), an epic fantasy set under Ancient Egyptian skies.
Next came the supernatural thriller, The Old Dragon’s Head (Matador, 2018), set in Ming Dynasty China.
His third novel, The Coronation (Matador, 2019), speculates on the genesis of the most important event of the modern world – the Industrial Revolution.
His fourth, The Abdication (Matador, 2021), is a supernatural thriller in which a young woman confronts her faith in a higher purpose and what it means to abdicate that faith.
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 was born three days before the end of 1953 and lives with his partner in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.
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Thank you so much for hosting Justin Newland today with this fabulous excerpt from The Old Dragon's Head. Much appreciated. xx
ReplyDeleteGreat to feature on your page. Thanks for hosting.
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