CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Calderon sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a slight tremor here and there as the rocks from the war machines slammed into the walls. He felt out of place. He was not a wizard, and certainly no soldier, yet here he was, in the middle of an important battle. And somehow, he had managed to lose the sphere.
“At least things can’t get much worse,” he muttered to himself. He stood to stretch his legs and walked over to the window. He couldn’t see the battle from his view, but he could hear it. He had never seen battle, but he had read books written by people who had. He could imagine the screams, visualize the bloody and wounded. It was enough to make him gag. He could never bring himself to kill another man. He heard something then, a slight rustling perhaps, that drew h
