The sandstone towers of Wulingyuan

Happy January!

It’s a time of new beginnings. There seems to be a hot debate on New Year’s resolutions, but at the very least I like to think of the new things I did the previous year, and the new things I want to do this year. I hope it’s a restorative, energizing time for you.

Something Adventurous

New places always inspire me, especially when they seem out of this world. One such place is Wulingyuan in China.

This World Heritage site is home to towering pillars of quartz sandstone. There are more than 3,000 of them dotted throughout the area, piercing the clouds.

Can you imagine standing at the base of one of these towers, looking up at something purely organic? They were formed through a mixture of tectonic shifts and water erosion.

Most things we see that are this tall are manmade. So whenever I see something like that is natural forming, my mouth drops. Consider this on my travel bucket list.

Project Update

Geographical places like this are a big inspiration for The Key of Taculon, the first book in my fantasy series about Kyrst, a treasure hunting dwarf.

I’m currently 12% of the way through my second draft, and after a few restarts on the opening chapter it’s flowing well. The characters are feeling more in focus than in the first draft.

I’m reached the first pinch point, which is halfway through Part 1 and marks a major turning point in the action. I’m excited to dive into the next section this week.

Recommended Book

At the end of 2023, I finished The Lost Metal, the latest Mistborn book by Brandon Sanderson. I had been a little unsure if Brandon had lost his touch, but wow—Metal blew me away. Amazing action, incredible character development, and a fantastic end to Era 2 in the Mistborn world.

If you missed this one, definitely read it. And if you haven’t read the Mistborn series at all, boy are you in for a treat!

That’s it for today! Please enjoy chapter 2 of The Key of Taculon below, and I’ll see you next month.

– Jesse

The Key of Taculon, chapter 2

Dust filled the inner room and for a moment Kyrst couldn't see anything. Bryst's stout form came into view as he kneeled in front of the hole they had crawled through. 

Outside, shouts from the elves came dully through the mud walls. Kyrst pulled his handkerchief back over his mouth to keep out the dust and desperately tried to breath quietly. 

Finally Bryst stood and grabbed Kyrst by his shirt. "This way," Bryst whispered and pulled Kyrst away from the hole.

They had crawled into a storage room. Broken shelves and pots littered the ground, the wood hard as rock. Their boots trudged through dust several inches deep until they reached ragged cloth hanging over the doorway. 

Bryst held Kyrst back and peeked out the room. Then he clucked with his tongue and led the way out. 

Sunlight poured through a window on the right. It was ground level, with neighboring buildings visible across the sun-baked road. Voices shouted somewhere outside and Bryst ducked. Kyrst followed his example and they scurried to the left down a wide, high hallway. 

Dirt trickled from the sagging roof above them. Faded bits of color spattered the walls, the remnants of someone's ancient decorating. Other rooms led off the hallway but every one was shadowed and dusty. 

Then the hallway ended and they stepped into a center courtyard. 

"Great forge," Kryst breathed as they stood up.

The house was two stories—or had been before the upper level collapsed in multiple places. Chunks of bannister lay scattered on the floor, along with pieces of a domed ceiling long ago painted shades of blue and red. Two large wooden doors stood shut on the far side of the room, a rusted chain loosely hanging through the handles. 

At the center sat a tall fountain. Long dry, its basin had been crushed by falling debris. Topping it were two thick feet, wrapped in flowing robes. The top was cracked and jagged, missing the rest of whatever statute had looked down from on high. .

"Elves and their dumb grandiosity," Bryst said with a huff. He straightened his pack and scanned the room.

"You're looking for metal now?" Kyrst asked.

"They don't know we're in here." Bryst unslung a pick from his pack and began walking in small squares, methodically weaving the pick's tip through the dust. 

Kyrst looked the tall doors. "They'll figure it out eventually."

"Grumble leads to moss," Bryst replied, his back to Kyrst. "But action leads to...."

Kyrst didn't want to finish the saying. But the longer it went unfinished, the more Kyrst's neck crawled. 

"Action leads to home," he said in a rush.

"Right. Now either get looking or keep a look out."

Bryst moved to the other side of the fountain. Grumbling in spite of himself, Kyrst pulled his pick out as well.

Dwarfish scavenging was guided by a simple search pattern. Tip of the pick down at a 45-degree angle, trail from right to left slowly, then up the length of the pick head, and back the other way. If in a large field (or room, as Kyrst was right now) the scavenger was to break it up in two-foot square blocks. In this way, any usable metal in the whole area would be found. 

This patient approach had allowed dwarfs to supply the mountain forges for centuries. With the metal scavengers found, dwarfs were sustained, able to create wondrous items, blah blah blah. 

The problem was, it was so painfully slow. 

Kyrst found his eyes wandering even before he’d finished the first square. 

There was no obvious way to reach the balcony. But since it was there, surely it had existed at one point. 

Kyrst surveyed the blocks and slabs. The red stone pieces were chiseled; the etched sides told him that much. They had fallen from ceiling, balcony, even part of the walls facing… oh come on, Bryst would know the direction… west, giving a shaft of afternoon sun access to bake the eastern wall to a crumbling crisp.

Next to that, a staircase clung half broken to the wall. It led up, past a window and those hash marks, to the balcony and an alcove that would have served as a great speaking location.

Hang on. Hash marks?

Kyrst shouldered his pick and stepped closer. Just out of reach of the sun, three vertical lines were carved into the stone wall and crossed by a fourth, angled in keeping with the staircase. Kyrst ran his fingers over them. There’s was no paint inside the furrows, while there was on the wall around them. 

There were no other marks on the walls nearby. Nothing to give a clue as to what the symbol might mean. But they had clearly been made after the house was finished.

Bryst’s pick clanked behind him. “Aha!” Bryst called out. 

“I thought we needed to be quiet,” Kyrst said, turning. 

Bryst rummaged through the dirt on the other side of the fountain, only his stooped back and pack visible. A moment later he stood and held up a triangular piece of burnished metal. 

“This is the biggest piece yet!” Bryst said. He quickly knelt down and swung his pack off. 

Kyrst glanced at the hash marks again. As he stepped away, his eyes followed the crosswise mark up the stairs. 

At the top a second hash mark caught the sun, standing out in sharp relief. 

A trail?

Stowing his pick, Kyrst pulled out a loose piece of paper and charcoal. Placing the parchment over the symbol, he rubbed the charcoal against it, copying the grooves. He stepped back and surveyed the staircase. Most of it lay on the ground—but small sections still jutted from the wall. If a dwarf was careful, he might be able to climb up the balcony.

“Kyrst, a little help?”  

Bryst had several other pieces of the same metal laid out on the floor. The larger triangle he tried to shove into the pack, but it wouldn’t fit. 

Kyrst started forward, then stopped. He stepped closer to the window. Were those… voices!

“You’ve always been the better packer, brother,” Bryst said. “There must be some way to fit all of these confounded scraps.”

Kyrst spun and bounded between the fallen stones. He slid to a stop at Bryst’s side and grabbed the pieces. 

“They’re surrounding the building,” Kyrst said. He had the pieces packed in moments, with just the tip of the large triangle poking out. “Still think the metal was worth it?”

“It’s an unknown alloy, Kyrst!” Bryst said, his eyes gleaming. He ran his fingers over the metal as a whistle blew long and hard right outside the double doors. "This should be enough, the things I could cast with this!"  

Kyrst stuffed the rubbing into his own pack lifted Bryst’s heavy pack with a grunt. "You won't get it home to Da and the forge if you don't hurry!"

The doors shook with a heavy bang. It woke Bryst from his awe and he slipped his arms through straps. 

"We need a way out," Bryst said, scanning the room.

"Already got one," Kyrst replied.

He led his brother to the staircase and the window beside it. Byrst led the way and Kyrst followed, passing the strange hashmark on the wall as the doors behind them crashed open.

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