Elon’s body trembled from the force of the blow, and he sucked in a breath, never removing his eyes from hers.
Carissa heart stopped, and her lungs refused to draw another breath. True, Elon couldn’t normally be injured, but the Scythe was made of Esmerian metal. How badly was he wounded? “Elon?”
His grip on her tightened as he rolled both of them to the side, avoiding another blow from the Reaper’s Scythe. His smile was brief and tight. “I’m fine.”
And then he drew away from her, leaving a rush of cold air in his place. Through her hazy vision, she saw him lift his sword to deflect the Reaper’s Scythe. The back of his shirt was dark with moisture, clinging to his form. But was it damp with sweat or blood?
Someone gripped her under her arms and dragged her away from the fighting. Carissa glanced over her shoulder and saw a beard obscuring the lower half of the man’s face. Though his features were indistinct, it was obviously Algernon.
He set her against a stone wall and remained by her side. Carissa looked up just as Elon plunged his sword into the Reaper’s chest. Elon pivoted before the Reaper’s body had even thudded to the ground and strode towards Carissa before kneeling by her side.
She gripped his shoulders and tried to turn him so she could examine his back. “Are you hurt?”