Wanderer in the City of Illusions
Ruzekiel Soren was tired, hungry, and now he was also very cold. When he had set out from Syrlias it had been August. He couldn’t have gone THAT far! Under him his horse Etienne snorted, evidently as weirded out as he was. It was snowing lightly, in the middle of a balmy midsummer night. Fancy that. As the worn out traveler approached the stone door of the city, he thought he caught some movement there, and he called out,
“Hello? Anyone there? Guards?” There must be at least one guard keeping watch over the gate, but as he came closer he saw no one. Then he realized that the movement he saw was not in fact a human or a guard but a giant face—welded right into the stone itself. And the face appeared to be sleeping, which was expected since it was two in the morning. Ruzekiel cleared his throat loudly and the face twitched but did not wake. Etienne whinnied and shifted under him, nervous.
“There, there,” Zeke said impatiently, “It’s just a giant…moving stone face.” Etienne huffed. If the paint horse were human Zeke was sure he would be pouting.
“Er, hallo!” He called in greeting, urging Etienne closer to the snoring stone door. Obviously just talking to it was not working. He cleared his parched throat and bellowed,
“EXCUSE ME! WAKE UP SLEEPYHEAD!” The door grumbled and mumbled, with the sound of pebbles grinding together loudly, and suddenly its wet granite eyes flew open and it bellowed back,
“ErrmumblegrumbleWHO GOES THERE?”The sheer power in the door’s voice was like an avalanche on Zeke’s eardrums. The ground shook under them. Etienne clearly had had enough of this scary nonsense and threw his head back, rearing into the air. Soren barely held on, squinting at the pile of dust that showered upon the pair from the stone goliath facing them.
“Now then, don’t get all worked up,” Soren said shakily, blinking and rubbing his eyes of the dirt, his free hand gripping the reins for dear life. The door glared down at them, then said in a bored, mini-earthquake boom,
“You have come in search of the City of Illusion. Tell me, stranger, why are you here?”
Ruzekiel grinned. “Well, I’m glad you asked! I am Ruzekiael Soren, and this here is Etienne.” He patted the horse’s neck. “We seek entry into your fair city.” The door blinked, sending a tiny shower of dirt into the snowy air, and grumbled down at them in an irritated voice,
“Do you know what TIME it is, little man? You woken me from my SLUMBER.” Zeke paused, staring up at the door quizzically, and replied,
“You’re a giant stone door. I wasn’t aware that rocks had to sleep.” The door blinked at this, evidently thinking, and then made a face, nodding slowly with the sound of stone scraping against stone. Then it released another pebbly growl and grumbled,
“But you still can’t come in.”
“Well why not?” Zeke whined, his breath steaming in the increasingly chilly night air. The door paused to think, then its throaty roar cracked the evening again.
“YOU MUST ANSWER A RIDDLE FIRST!”
“Must you do this to all your guests?”
Etienne nickered with a nicker that could only mean in horse,
“I’m fed up with this silliness,” and threw his rider clear out of the saddle. Zeke fell in an ungraceful pile with a snowy thump and a loud oof. His horse whinnied and trotted away in search of carrots. Soren, face in the snow, delivered a muffled sigh and asked the door,
“What’s the riddle?” He looked up to see the door’s mossy facade break into a wide-toothed grin and laugh heartily, sending the light powdered snow up into the air and into the hapless traveler’s face.
“YOU STUPID, FUNNY LITTLE MAN,” it said, with another hysterical chuckle.
“COME IN, IF YOU DARE. I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU.”
At this, the mouth of the door ceased its talk and opened wide, wide enough for two tall carriages to pass through side-by-side, the stone somehow wrinkling as the entrance expanded. Zeke stumbled upright, dusted himself off, and stood high, trying to piece together what little dignity he had. He nodded stiffly to the door and sauntered into the City of Illusions, tried, hungry, damp, and with absolutely no idea what he was doing.