the sand for hundreds of yards; evidently the wind the cloud ray had produced had had a real counterpart. Elves lay strewn everywhere as well, most of them rising shakily to their feet now that the battle was over. The kank pen had been trampled and the kanks had fled, except for the ones that had been injured either by flying debris or by their fellows.
However, the worst scene of destruction by far was the site of the cloud ray’s impact. It had hit with enough force to dig a crater, scattering gouts of sand and chunks of its body all around. Jedra was awestricken by the magnitude of what he and Kayan had done, but then he saw something that sickened him instead: one of the elves hadn’t been able to dodge the flying debris. Only his lead and shoulders stuck out from the huge oblong mass of bone and flesh that pinned him down. It was the cloud ray’s head, Jedra realized.
The elf wasn’t dead. He screamed in pain and tried to wriggle free, but he was trapped. The other elves ran toward him and began digging frantically in the sand, trying to pull him out, but the immense weight of the head just sank it deeper with every handful they scooped away. The elves switched their digging to the downhill side of the head, trying to roll it off their companion, but it was so huge Jedra didn’t see how they could budge it.
“We did it again!” he whispered furiously to Kayan. “We let our power get out of control and we hurt someone.”
Kayan took a step toward the digging elves. “Maybe we can help now. Push the… thing aside, or…”
“No.” Jedra grabbed her by the shoulder. “If we link up again, there’s no telling what might happen.”
“Then let’s help dig. We can’t just stand here and watch him die,” she said, and she began picking her way through the wreckage of the tents toward the pinned elf.
Jedra followed her, but the elves stopped them when they drew near. “Get back,” one warrior snarled, drawing his sword. “You’ve done enough damage. Harat is dying, thanks to you.”
“I’m a healer,” Kayan said. “I can keep him alive while you dig.”
The warrior considered a moment, then stood aside, but he didn’t sheathe his sword. “See that you do,” he said, “or you will die with him.”
Kayan sized him up with a look that seemed to say, “Not likely,” but she didn’t push it. Instead she bent down to the pinned elf. He was no longer screaming, but his face was still contorted in a grimace of pain, and his breathing was fast and shallow. His skin was pale, too, for an elf.
“I’m going to make you sleep,” Kayan told him. “Try not to fight it. When you wake up, you’ll be out of here, and all your injuries will be healed.”
The elf shook his head. “I can’t… feel my legs. Not even you can heal that.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Kayan said, placing her hands on his head. The elf closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. When he was completely unconscious, Kayan turned to the elf warrior who still stood over her with his sword drawn and said, “You’d be more use to him digging. He’s bleeding inside, and I can’t stop that until we get him out of here.”
The warrior growled something in elvish, but he sheathed his sword and walked around to join in the digging.
Jedra did the same. He had to stifle an involuntary laugh when he first saw how the elves were digging—they had bent down and were throwing sand backward between their legs like a pack of rasclinn burrowing for roots—but when he tried it himself he realized that was the best way to move a lot of sand in a hurry.
The sand was sticky and colored red with the cloud ray’s blood. It smelled of metals and exotic spices. Jedra had expected it to smell awful, but the creature had been alive only minutes before; it hadn’t had time to putrefy yet. Give it a day in the direct sun, though, and the stench from a carcass this size would be unbearable for miles around.
The ragged wall of flesh above him began to shift, and the elves leaped back out of the way. Jedra slipped and had a horrifying moment as he imagined it rolling over and trapping him, but one of the elves snatched at his arm and pulled him free just