I still can’t believe how lucky I’ve been to be part of the Uncollected Anthology.
We’re a collection of urban fantasy writers, and we come out with new short stories four times a year (roughly quarterly), each of us writing to the same theme.
The first story I wrote turned out to have legs, as it were. Dancing with Tong Yi has now had two sequels.
I don’t know yet if there will be another sequel, or if I’m just going to have to write the novel. (Yes, there will be a novel, possibly titled, “The Immortals’ War.” There’s too much of that story still to tell, and I don’t know if I can break off more chunks or not.)
In the meanwhile, to celebrate the release of The Sweet Shop, the latest Tong Yi story, I’m going to list the first Tong Yi story here for free for a week.
Tong Yi works for Huli Transport, a company that specializes in rides and transportation for those who aren’t quite human.
When the newest job comes up—delivering a message to Zhang Guo Lao, one of the Eight Immortals—Tong Yi assumes the job will be tricky because the immortal likes to play games.
He has no idea that Zhang Guo Lao isn’t the only one interested in “dancing” with him.
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The piercing scream rolled through the canyon of Taroko Gorge, reverberating over the sound of Tong Yi’s motorcycle, making him swerve, but he managed to keep his bike upright. Luckily, he’d been going down a straight–ish piece of road, not taking a curve, or he might have wiped out. Plus, he was driving the bike Ren Wu referred to as “Big Bing Xi,” a sleek red–and–black Yamaha Street Rally.
Tong Yi glanced over his shoulder. A huge bird, easily two times the size of a human, raced after him. Its feathers were the color of wet concrete. It had the head and neck of a snake, with the beak of an eagle. Its lighter colored feet were like a rooster’s, thick and scaly, with razor–sharp black talons.
God damn it. Where had that huang come from? Judging by its color, or lack of it, it must be a female. It blended in well with the granite gorge walls. The feng, the male of the fenghuang, had a white–death face, reddish wings, and blue legs. And it spat poison, which the female couldn’t.
Evil mountain shan and other non–humans sometimes used the fenghuang as mounts. Tong Yi dared another glance back. It was riderless. Maybe he had a chance.
Except, the female’s nest was probably close by, judging by how well it knew the road, drawing back its wings when the car–and–a–half width dropped down to a single lane over a bridge. Was it defending her young? Or looking for a snack for them?
It didn’t matter. Tong Yi had to get the hell out of there. Neither his leathers or helmet would protect him from the beast. At least the company’s colors— Huli Transport, brown and yellow—weren’t bright enough to make him a flaming target in the misty, pre–dawn light.
Possibly, though, just because he worked for Huli Transport was why the huang had targeted him. Tong Yi didn’t understand all the politics between the human and non–human races, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to.
The huang screamed again. The sound bounced off the closed–in canyon walls. Tong Yi leaned to the left, into the next curve, not daring to slow down. Bing Xi took the curve like a dream. The bird folded its wings and dove after him, sliding like an eel through the air.
Tong Yi had only driven Taroko Gorge once before, and that had been before he’d started working for Huli Transport. He didn’t know the road well enough to recognize where he was, or how many li he had to survive before he got out of the gorge. He didn’t remember the road being this narrow, the rough rock walls so close, or how few of the turns had guardrails.
Why hadn’t anyone warned him that the fenghuang lived here? It made sense, actually. The gorge’s steep walls and tight curves made an excellent hunting ground.
Tong Yi should have realized that delivering a message to Zhang Guo Lao, one of the Eight Immortals, was never going to be that easy.
Still, he hadn’t been the only one who’d stepped up when Ren Wu had asked who was available for an easy run. Once he’d been chosen, though, the other messengers had giggled at him, the new recruit, getting the job. Of course, neither of them had offered any advice or warning. Wan Cho had gone back to eating her Ramen and playing games on her phone, while Han Di had walked away, outside, to smoke another clove cigarette.
One less messenger meant more jobs for them. Huli Transport specialized in rides for non–human clientele. They’d only recently branched out from China into Taiwan, and into messaging as well.
The road curved to the right. A yellow warning sign flashed by, showing a black series of s–curves.
Shit.
No straightaway in sight.
Tong Yi kept up his speed. At least it was too early in the morning for a damned tourist bus to be coming the other way, taking up the center of the road.
The blacktop at the next curve shone darkly, coated with a fine mist of water from the picturesque waterfall tumbling down the gorge wall.
Tong Yi felt his back wheel start to go out from under him. Cursing, he backed slightly off the accelerator.
The huang saw its chance.
Instinct made Tong Yi slow more and duck.
The hunag’s talons clicked together in the air where Tong Yi’s head had been. It screeched angrily as it coasted over him. Then it unfolded its wings and flapped, heading back up toward the sliver of blue sky above the dark walls of the canyon.
Tong Yi held Bing Xi on the road through sheer will as the backdraft pushed against him. She was heavy enough to take it, though. A lighter machine would have been blown off the road.
How the hell was Tong Yi supposed to find Zhang Guo Lao when he was going at this speed? He was certain he’d recognize him: Like the rest of the messengers, Tong Yi had been born with a higher level of sight, that had been enhanced with the training all employees of Huli Transport received.
The old man was known for resting with his white mule along the Liwu River that rolled along the bottom of the gorge. Tong Yi had hoped to find him as the road opened up into one of the main highways.
He’d assumed none of the other messengers had fought to get the job because Zhang Guo Lao was known as a trickster. Finding him, delivering the message, as well as getting his response, was sure to be, well, tricky.
Tong Yi glanced up above again. No sign of the huang. It was probably winging its way behind him again.
Or lying in wait in front of him.
It couldn’t be the immortal in disguise, could it?
That didn’t feel right to Tong Yi. Zhang Guo Lao was much more likely to misdirect as a human, appearing as a bum or old prospector, in order to test kindness. Not to attack as a different creature.
Another scream pierced the air. Damn bird was back. How was Tong Yi going to get out of the canyon alive? Then find the immortal? He didn’t want to drive past Zhang Guo Lao by accident, then have to come back and face the huang again.
The road flattened out and Tong Yi found himself climbing. Great, just great. The road was bringing him closer to the sky where the stupid bird was. The canyon walls were dropping away. He glanced back when he dared, but he didn’t see the creature. It was close, though.
The road continued to climb, and Tong Yi negotiated another steep curve. If he hadn’t been being chased, he would have enjoyed how Bing Xi handled turns.
Up ahead, fog and clouds rolled across the road. It was another reason why so many tour buses would clog the road later in the day: The tourist brochures for the Taroko Gorge road promised not only beautiful rolling whitewater at the bottom of the gorge, but in parts, the road also rose up above the low hanging clouds, drawing closer to heaven.
Tong Yi plunged into the wet whiteness. Bing Xi’s growling engine reverberated between the rock walls. He couldn’t see a damned thing through the fog. What sweat had gathered under his leathers suddenly cooled. He flipped up the faceplate on his helmet as the moisture beaded up, making it even more difficult to see.
The next screeching cry seemed to come from all around Tong Yi. Shit. Where was the damned thing?
A talon appeared directly in front of Tong Yi. He ducked and swerved. The claw missed him mere inches.
Bing Xi fishtailed on the wet road. Tong Yi slowed and fought to keep her upright. He had a few seconds (he hoped) before the bird made its way back around.
Suddenly, Tong Yi popped out above the clouds. Clear blue sky opened up above him. Higher peaks, the gray rocks laced with snow, appeared on either side. Below him was a lake of white fog.
Tong Yi slowed the bike and pulled over to the panoramic overlook. The huang wouldn’t attack him in the open, where her prey could easily run. Only after he stood Bing Xi up and swung his leg over the seat did he realize just how badly he was shaking.
He couldn’t rest long. He had to negotiate the rest of the gorge road before the tourist buses started rolling.
The buses wouldn’t stop the huang, no, instead, Tong Yi would be trapped, unable to escape. The humans riding the buses wouldn’t see the great bird hunting him: their mundane eyes hid all manner of things. They’d only see another young man accidently driving off the gorge road when he tried to pass them and the great beast attacked.
But how was he going to get through the rest of the gorge alive?
Θ
After stretching and jogging in place, Tong Yi still had no idea how he was going to get through the rest of the gorge alive. But he didn’t have a choice: He had a message to deliver. It was in his contract that he would make heroic efforts to deliver all messages entrusted to him.
At least his family would receive an adequate insurance payout from the company if he was killed while on duty.
Tong Yi didn’t want to die. His older brother, the eldest sibling in the family, was the one with the deathwish, wanting to flameout and leave a beautiful corpse.
Tong Yi wouldn’t abandon his family that way.
He wondered sometimes if his brother also had some sort of sight, which was why he’d started drinking so heavily and shooting heroin, rather than deal with the red–faced ghosts, fox fairies, and even stranger creatures that co–existed in the world, generally hidden to most humans.
When the representative from Huli Transport had approached Tong Yi, telling him that he had great potential, he’d seen the opportunity to help his family out of the debts generated by the eldest son.
Shaking himself all over like a dog, Tong Yi climbed back on his bike and started it up. The purring of Bing Xi’s engine’s sounded pitifully small in the open air, spread out and thin.
But the vinyl seat had warmed in the sun, and the clean winds had cleared Tong Yi’s senses.
He just had to go like hell, get out of the gorge, and not slow down until the very end. Hopefully he could time approaching the immortal with the huang’s attacks, actually see the old man and not blow by him.
Tong Yi rode the bike slowly to the edge of the wet fog. It smelled like a thunderstorm, that sharp scent of ozone piercing through his sinuses to the back of his skull. Tong Yi revved the engine once, twice—a challenge—before he shot forward into the blinding whiteness, hugging the canyon wall.
The huang waited just on the other side. Tong Yi was glad he’d chosen the right side, and not the center, where the bird had been. Its talons clicked empty a couple feet to his left.
Ha! Tong Yi sneered. He could do this.
A second claw manifested right in front of Tong Yi. He swerved to the left.
Damn it! Now there were two of them. Had the bird’s mate joined her? The fog was too thick for him to be able to see.
He wouldn’t be able to predict the attacks, and possibly he wouldn’t have any rest between them.
The road curved as it dropped down. Above the muffled roar of the engine Tong Yi heard the splash of a hidden waterfall. He slowed suddenly, but still fishtailed across the wet road. Claws brushed against his back, throwing him forward, making him swerve harder to the right.
Tong Yi knew better than to put his foot down to help stop the fall. He threw his weight to the left, righting Bing Xi and wobbling.
Goddamn it. He wasn’t going to get out of this.
The next curve climbed again. Tong Yi torqued the accelerator, leaping forward. Maybe there was another break above the clouds up ahead.
Of course, that might just give the damn bird the chance to recruit yet another of its kind for the free lunch.
After another curve, the fog thinned out. Up ahead, Tong Yi saw an opening.
But it wasn’t the road going above the clouds again. No, a bridge rose up from the road.
Not a human bridge.
Was this an escape route? Or a trap?
Tong Yi had never heard of a bridge like this. Solid bleached–wood planks made up the center of it, while shining strands of spun glass held up the looping arches. The foot of the bridge took up almost the entire road.
He saw that he had a choice. A skinny sliver of road curved to the left of the bridge. Tong Yi could stick to the road and not take the bridge if he wanted.
Two piercing screams rang together behind Tong Yi. He swerved to the right, then to the left, hoping that the erratic path his bike took would protect him. Bing Xi flowed easily in and out of the curves, like she was dancing.
At least the road went straight for a while. Tong Yi sped up, pushing the engine to a roar. He swerved one more time, then righted the bike and struck the foot of the bridge straight on. The bump tossed him into the air. He landed on the bridge with a solid thump, the entire bridge dipping and bucking under the force of his landing.
The screeching call of the huang faded as Tong Yi climbed the bridge. He slowed, risking a glance back.
The huang and its feng mate wheeled at the far end of the bridge, frustrated, unable to follow him.
Tong Yi slowed the bike further, pausing. The bridge lifted up, off the road, across the gorge. Nothing but steep walls and endless rocks lay beneath it.
Up ahead, the other edge of the bridge disappeared in more thick fog.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire? Possibly.
Tong Yi didn’t have a choice, though. He just pushed on.
Θ
The fog on the far side of the bridge was wetter and colder than the clouds Tong Yi had pushed into earlier. He thought about pulling down the visor for his helmet, but decided not to: He needed to be able to really see.
Nothing but whiteness surrounded Tong Yi. He strained his ears over Bing Xi’s rumble, but couldn’t hear anything beyond it. The fog tasted of calm and snow. Tong Yi didn’t relax, however. He had no idea where he was, or what was ahead of him.
The bump at the far end of the bridge tossed Tong Yi back up into the air, despite the slow speed at which he took it.
He landed on gravel. The tires spun. Tong Yi skidded and fishtailed, but kept the bike upright.
Where the hell was he?
After only a few yards, the fog dissolved. Tong Yi found himself still riding on a peak. Clouds covered the valleys between him and the mountains on either side. The blue sky above him was much brighter and sharper, while the winds were thinner, needling him.
The road itself wasn’t much more than a dirt trail. The sides of the mountain spine dropped abruptly on either side of him.
Tong Yi had to stay strictly to the trail. If he swerved or fell, it was a long way down.
If there was a bottom at all.
The mountain path was only clear for a short while. Another solid bank of cloud loomed up ahead, just after the trail forked.
Tong Yi had no way of knowing which way to go. He paused, considering. Then he walked his bike down along the one path, stuck his nose into the fog, then down the other.
There had been that movie, once, where the wise wizard had said to follow your nose.
But one side didn’t smell sweeter than the other, or more sour.
Tong Yi tried again. This time he caught the faint call of a seagull from the right–hand side. Plus, Bing Xi seemed to roll more easily along that path.
Zhang Gua Lao was known as a fisherman….
Taking a chance, Tong Yi started down the right hand side. Maybe he could climb back up if it turned out to be wrong, though in all the myths he’d ever read, it was the second (or third) person faced with a choice who ended up choosing correctly. The first never got a chance to correct course.
Hopefully, Tong Yi had chosen correctly the first time.
The fog here wasn’t as thick. Tong Yi was still on a dirt trail, cut into the side of the mountain. Sharp rocks pushed out from the left. To his right was an abrupt drop off. Far below, a stream rushed by.
A rumbling to Tong Yi’s left made him hang on more tightly to Bing Xi. What was that? Earthquake? Or…
Waterfall.
The path swerved hard to the left. Tong Yi barely made the turn. The waterfall fell off the overhanging cliff, while the trail went behind it. Wet dirt made Bing Xi’s back wheel slide.
And keep sliding.
Tong Yi swallowed down the bile that suddenly rose as he fought to right the bike.
He was not going off the damn cliff.
The wet stone directly behind the waterfall wasn’t an improvement. Tong Yi continued on his barely controlled skid. Bing Xi started turning sideways, until the rear wheel was inches away from the edge of the cliff.
With an abrupt jerk, Tong Yi managed to right himself. He stopped Bing Xi on the hairpin turn, panting.
What the hell had Tong Yi been thinking? Why had he believed he could do this job? Did he really want to keep going? He’d signed a contract, but still.
However, the company had already given him such great sight training. It had opened up so many opportunities for him, not just for the human world, but the non–human world as well.
And the pay was Western scale.
If he could just manage to live through the next few paychecks.
He was just going to have to sign up for motorcycle trick–riding lessons.
With a sigh, Tong Yi edged forward again, the trail dipping sharply.
He also might ask for combat pay with the next job.
Θ
Tong Yi felt like getting off his bike and kissing the ground when he finally reached the bottom of the mountain.
However, he was afraid his legs would shake so badly he wouldn’t have been able to walk, or even have the strength to get back on Bing Xi.
In front of Tong Yi ran a long stretch of white sandy beach. The ocean, just beyond, was strangely calm, a flat dark blue, burping little waves onto the shore. A solid, blacktop road ran out from the foot of the mountain, then turned, and cut across the sand.
To Tong Yi’s left, on the far side of a stream that ran down from the mountain and out into the ocean, an old man dressed in plain white robes sat cross legged on the ground, his fishing pole dipping into the water. Beside him, a large white mule stood, nodding its head to its own internal rhythms.
Finally! Here was Zhang Gua Lao. Tong Yi was certain of it. He eagerly turned Bing Xi that direction. However, as soon as the front wheel touched the sand, she stopped.
Frustrated, Tong Yi kicked the starter pedal.
Nothing. The engine didn’t even click.
When Tong Yi backed up, so both wheels were on the blacktop, the engine turned right over.
Tong Yi looked over his left shoulder, to where the immortal sat, and then back up, along the road. As far as he could tell, it didn’t curve that direction all, just ran straight along the beach, with tall mountain cliffs on the left and the ocean on the right.
It didn’t go anywhere near the old man.
With a sigh, Tong Yi backed Bing Xi up onto her kickstand, turned off the engine, and took off his helmet. In the sudden quiet, the waves sounded louder and he could hear seagulls squawking in the distance. A quick glance told Tong Yi that despite how loud they’d grown, the waves hadn’t increased in size.
Yet.
Tong Yi put down his helmet on the seat of his bike and swung his leg over slowly, happy that he could stand. He stomped his feet a couple of times into the ground, driving feeling back into his toes. From his saddlebag he grabbed the red envelope he was supposed to deliver to Zhang Guo Lao. He kept on his gloves, not touching the paper with his bare fingers out of respect.
How far across the sand was it to the immortal, really? Would the distance grow as soon as he put his first foot down? Would he ever reach the old man?
It didn’t matter. Tong Yi had to try. He was so close. He couldn’t fail now.
Θ
Luckily, it only took Tong Yi about thirty minutes to cross the few dozen yards from the road to the stream where the immortal still sat, fishing.
Unfortunately, the wind and waves had built up unnaturally quickly during that time. A storm brewed just off the coast. Dark clouds tumbled over one another, and flashes of lightning sparking through them.
If Tong Yi had any luck remaining, he’d get at least halfway up the mountain trail before the storm struck the coast.
Knowing how this day had gone, though, the storm would hit before Tong Yi even left the blacktop for the mountain trail.
Tong Yi approached the old man silently, afraid that he might drive away any fish that swam in the stream if he was too loud. There was no way across the stream that Tong Yi could see. It was too wide for him to try to leap across. And he knew that if he tried something stupid like walking into the water, well, it would be like the beach, and he’d probably drown instead.
Zhang Guo Lao looked up a couple minutes after Tong Yi had reached the far side of the stream. “Ni hau,” he said, nodding his head.
“Nin hau,” Tong Yi replied, bowing low, using the more formal form of greeting, relieved that his patience had paid off and he wasn’t going to have to wait longer.
The immortal gave a toothful grin to Tong Yi. He put his bamboo fishing pole to the side, sticking the end into the sand, then he stood, smoothing his plain white robes. A large brown–leather belt held them together. Many oddly–shaped pouches and bags hung from it.
“Have you come to join me fishing today?” Zhang Gua Lao asked.
“No, sir,” Tong Yi said. “I have a message for you.”
Tong Yi raised the envelop up, resting it on both of his open palms above his head as he offered it to the old man. He knew better than to grab hold of the envelop as a sudden wind whisked it away, out of his grasp, across the water, and to the immortal.
When Tong Yi looked back up, the old man had already opened the envelop and drawn out the letter.
The immortal’s face darkened as he read.
Tong Yi looked away, back out toward the now angry water. He really wasn’t looking forward to the trip back.
“This means war, you know,” Zhang Gua Lao said softly.
“Excuse me?” Tong Yi asked. War? What did that mean? Between who?
“Ah, never mind,” Zhang Gua Lao said with a heavy sigh. He gave Tong Yi what looked like a forced smile while he slipped the letter inside his robe.
Then the immortal began to fold up the red envelope.
Tong Yi remembered the old stories, about how the sturdy looking mule standing beside the old man was actually made of paper and would fold up neatly into one of the pouches hanging off Zhang Guo Lao’s belt.
When the immortal had finished, a beautiful red lotus flower sat in the palm of his hand.
Was it a declaration of peace? Or passivism, indicating that he wouldn’t be joining this war? Or was there some other message trapped inside the clever folds?
Zhang Gua Lao raised up the flower in both palms, presenting it to Tong Yi, then he blew on it.
Tong Yi reached out his open hand and accepted the lotus after it floated back across the stream. He assumed this was Zhang Gua Lao’s response to the letter. Still, Tong Yi waited to hear if there was anything else.
The old man looked down at the stream, seemingly lost in thought, before he glanced up again. “Give Bi Qi some extra attention from me, would you?” the old man asked.
“Excuse me, sir,” Tong Yi said after a moment. “Who?” He had no idea who the immortal was talking about.
“Bi Qi,” Zhang Guo Lao said. He looked over Tong Yi’s shoulder. “Your steed.”
Tong Yi glanced over his shoulder, then whipped around. Where Bing Xi had once rested, now stood a graceful black mare, with red ribbons braided into her mane and tail. She shook her head at Tong Yi and whinnied, pawing at the ground.
“She wants you to hurry back,” Zhang Guo Lao said. “She wants to dance more. She really enjoyed this morning’s ride. She likes dancing with you.”
“Dancing?” Tong Yi asked. Dancing? All the slides and fishtailing and nearly falling off the cliff? Those had been her idea of fun?
Did fishtailing equal dancing to Bi Qi?
“She likes you,” Zhang Guo Lao confided. “She may even let you ride her in her natural form someday.”
Tong Yi and Bi Qi were going to have to have a long talk at some point. But for now, Tong Yi had another message to deliver, bringing Zhang Guo Lao’s reply back to Ren Wu.
And more dancing with Bi Qi to survive.
This story is the first story about Tong Yi and The Immortals’ War. Find the second story, War on all Fronts at your favorite retailer.
Tong Yi carries the mysterious message of Zhang Gua Loa back to his boss.
The immortal had said there would be war. But between whom? And why?
Huli Transport takes advantage of the situation to become the messenger service of choice in the war zone. They promise to remain neutral, and to deliver messages to all sides.
In the meantime, Tong Yi has battles of his own to fight, both with his older brother and his own growing understanding of magic.
But in the middle of a war, is it possible for him to remain neutral? Or has his side already been chosen for him?
Be sure to read the continuing adventures of Tong Yi in The Sweet Shop at your favorite retailers.
Tong Yi waits for something to happen—for his brother to return from the war zone, for his boss to trust him again, for his magical training to be expanded.
Something. Anything.
Then powerful wizard Uncle Bei takes him to The Sweet Shop—a magic shop more special and strange than Tong Yi has ever imagined.
Tong Yi finally returns to the war zone as well, delivering a message to a client he’d never expected.
But he must now make a decision about the war, about his place in it, about his magical training.
And everything, everything, has a price.