Then the very edge of the helicopter's shadow touched them.
And there was a blinding light and a great wave of air that threw them to the ground like a giant hand, and there was a roar greater than the northern cataracts. And the sound and light was gone, but still their ears rang with the thunder of it and their eyes pained.
Ahead of them there was another roar. And a group of huts seemed to come apart from quick flashes inside of them. Bits of the lodge plopped down on their backs, and one huge piece of timber embedded in the earth only a foot from Neju's body.
Neju threw himself over the old Chieftain to protect him; he felt dirt and sticks and dust shower over him and the air smelled sharp and bitter and stifling.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
The earth jarred with explosions, one after another, measured, methodical. Neju gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tightly.
And the world was light and noise and flying debris.
Then it was over. Neju was holding his breath. For several minutes, he did not dare lift his head; his ears rang and his head was weighted. He brushed at it, and his hand came away wet with blood.
He looked up, and the air demon was gone.
The lodge was no more—only a smoking crater, and, except for two huts, miraculously intact, all of the village was mashed flat as though a giant hammer had worked it over carefully.