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“I can’t remember.”
“Is it magical?” asked Ivy.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Malkieth. “It is a door.”
“Then why won’t it open?”
“Because when I had it made I wanted to either keep something in or something out. And I know that Ghul Tark Manor is on the other side, so maybe I wanted to keep him out.”
“So it doesn’t open either way?”
“That’s it!” he shrieked with joy.
“What’s it?”
“It has to be opened either way.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone has to be on the other side opening it while we open it on this side.”
Ivy shook her head. “He is mad. That’s not how doors work, you lunatic.”
Malkieth was taken aback. “They don’t? Well, this one does.”
Daemona rubbed her hands over her face in frustration. She tried to calculate how long of a walk it would be back to Malkieth’ home in the rocks where at least they could get some water. She was so thirsty now.
Malkieth thrummed his fingers through his beard, muttering to himself as much as to the others. “You don’t believe me, but I remember. Someone pushes from this side, someone pushes from the other side. It was the only way I could be sure that the door was secure because only friends could open it.”
Ghul Lykos looked to Daemona. “Only you can do this,” he said, looking hopeful.
“I don’t port to where I can’t see. I might get stuck inside of something and kill myself. I killed that Necro Priest by porting him into a tree. And I don’t know what is on the other side of that door.”
“Ghul Tark Manor,” answered Malkieth.
Ghul Lykos continued, “It’s the only way. This one is magically blocked, and he still thinks it’s the only way out.
“It could kill me,” argued Daemona.
“It’s the only way I can see,” he said. “If it was me, I’d do it.”
“But it’s not you, its me.”
Ivy asked Malkieth, “How thick is the door?”
“One foot,” he answered, holding his hands two feet apart.
Ivy continued, “Presumably, the door can’t be more than two feet thick and there must be space for it to swing open, so if you port to the other side and keep within the parameters, you should be fine.”
“But I don’t know,” grumbled Daemona. She thought of Harlin, the mission, Esmerelda, and the others. If they were really trapped, she was the only one who could get them out. She went and touched the door, trying to get a sense of how thick it was. “I’m going, but if the door won’t open in a minute you’ll know that I’m dead.”
“Thank you,” said Ghul Lykos, taking her hand in his and squeezing.
Daemona blinked out.
***
She found herself on the other side of the door, beside what looked like a great crumbling mausoleum covered in gothic architecture. She tried to step away, but realized her foot was caught. The very tip of her boot had merged with the marble stone and she had to cut it away to free herself. Turning around, she took in her surroundings. She was in a vast ivy-strewn graveyard. Monuments and tombstones went as far as she could see to her left and right. The names were almost unreadable on some of them, and besides Ghul Tark, there were Ghul Holokin, Ghul Maal, Ghul Pellier, Ghul Daanen, and Ghul Siedrir. She didn’t know the names but was intrigued by the variety in the Ghul Tark graveyard. Directly in front of her, through a wide stand of gloomy trees, less than a quarter mile away, stood Ghul Tark Manor.
