Meilin's Fire
				  by Mattias Thorelli

	  A week had passed before the traveler Meihou got word that Louran had
	fallen. A courir caught up with him in a narrow pass, bringing his
	journey toward the Arabian peninsula to a sudden end.
	  It had taken a week to find him, and another one passed before Meihou
	with a sad and angry face could step into the Lord Kumari's chamber.
	  The look on the traveler's face was well entitled. Though he was old,
	and had seen many wars, much bloodshed and disfigured beasts, and though
	he had seen both towns and friends born and die many times, this situ-
	ation would never be pleasant. He had friends and family in Louran, 
	which were probably dead. Having many children didn't make it a bit
	easier to lose a daughter.
	  The Lord Kumari looked an equally sad look in his shining, soothing
	eyes.
	  Kumari was the oldest of the two, by far, for his real age could not
	be read in the wrinkles of his scared face. The body he used now would
	soon fade away, but it didn't matter. The Lord was eternal. They both
	knew it, and therefor paid no mind to Kumari's frail arms and weak voice.
	  Countless times he had replaced his host body, and that it would soon
	happen again, worried no one.
	  The same moment Louran was attacked, Kumari had known about it. On this
	day of Meihou's arrival, he still knew more about the tragedy than anyone
	else.

	  After the usual greeting phrases, Kumari spoke.
	  "I called you here of two reasons. On the first hand, I want you to be
	part of our mourning of the dead, and I believe that is your wish too.
	  On the second hand, there is a matter of great importance which calls
	for you."
	  Meihou straighted his back as he addressed his great Lord.
	  "What matter is that, my Lord?"
	  "I have felt the stream of events up to this moment." Kumari answered.
	"Your granddaughter still lives."
	  "Meilin? I am pleased to hear it. How is she?"
	  "Fate has been kind to her, for she still has her physical health.
	However... Her mind has suffered a great shock, which has had serous
	consequences."
	  "What kind of concequences?"
	  "Magic." Kumaris voice was calm and old.
	  "Can I see her?"
	  "You have to see her. That is why wee need you. You are now her only
	living relative."
	  Meihou lowered his head. Meita, his daughter...
	  Kumari went on: "There are complications making it even harder for you,
	I am afraid. Meilin is still in Louran. In this very moment."



	  Horror. Staring eyes. A loose hand. Blood. Horror. Death. Burnt off hair.
	A crushed head. Bodies. Never ends, does it? Black figures on a painting
	of fire. Bones. A crushed head. Horror. Getting closer. Fire. No escape.
	Ghosts. Staring eyes. A loose hand. A crushed head.
	  Louran was a flaming mass.
	  For what it was worth, Meilin woke up from her sleep, hurling forward,
	screaming like an animal. This, though, was images that didn't let go. More
	than a dream, more than reality.
	  Mom's crushed head yelled: "Meilin! Run to the gate! You can do it!"
	  She didn't run. She never did. She was still there. She wanted to run,
	away from the nightmare, away from the fire, away from death, but she
	couldn't. Her feet didn't move.
	  Mom's loose hand reached for her. Her bloody lips said:
	  "My little girl! Come! Let's run!"
	  She was still there, didn't run. Couldn't. Mom stood there. Her eyes
	staring.
	  Meilin fell asleep again. The beasts kept coming. Mom stood there, still
	here. The town, on fire. 
	  A crushed head.

	
	  Louran was an enormous oven, dropped in the middle of the desert, and lit
	with an infernal fire like none other.
	  Freeze that image in your mind.
	  Meihou stared with horror as the pillars of smoke reached their black 
	fingers for the sky, motionless, frozen in their path. He recalled an old
	tale he had heard in his youth, about a war between the greatest powers of
	the universe, sometime in a distant past. 
	  The story went, time and space had stopped serving each other, and thus
	created eternal chaos. How the tale ended, he didn't remember. He only felt
	the tremendous shock of seeing it come true.
	  It really looked like time had left space over Louran. The smoke hung thick
	and quiet over a frozen fire, sending out a calm, strong blood red glow. It
	all gave the sight a feeling - not of this earth.
	  Meihou held back a shiver at his next thougth.
	  It was a gateway to hell.
	  Slowly, the shock faded away, as he stood there and looked. Could this even
	be reality? The Lord has spoken of magic and "seroius consequences", but
	this? Could Meilin have caused THIS?
	  With resoluton, he stepped down from the rocks he had been standing on, and
	began to move closer. This was, as frightening as it was, the goal of this
	journey, and he had never in his long life backed away with the goal in sight.
	  He was the only one who could do this. He would save his grandchild, and
	give the souls of the citizens peace. The memory of Meita kept up his pace.
	With her dead, Meilin was the only one to...
	  Before he knew it, he was running. This time... Meilin, she would not slip
	through his fingers. He would save her.
	  A second away from calling out to her, the journey of his lifetime ended.
	A million knives were hurled at him, knocking him backwards. Hit hit the hard
	ground and rolled a few meters before he had even comprehended what was
	happening.
	  A minute passed.
	  Two minutes passed.
	  When Meihou finally got up on his feet, he felt a sharp pain in his back
	and left leg. Still, it was nothing compared to the pain in his mind. The
	road ahead of him was empty, all the way to the flaming town in the distance.
	He had run into a magical barrier, of a magnitude that didn't even let time
	pass through.
	  He would never get through it. He panicked. He would NEVER get through it!
	  Tears fell from his cheeks as called out Meilin's name at the top if his
	throat. He called until his voice broke down, and he fell back on the ground
	and wept.
	  He would be lucky to even make it back across Gobi. The nomads might be
	his only chance. As for Meilin, she was alone in hell.





	MT July-August 2000