It was the end of the second month since the rogues had first been spotted on the northern border. The camps were still there, pulled back from the immediate perimeter, but present. The patrols had intercepted two more scouts in the past week alone. The rogue had given them fragments before he died.
Now Rowan stood at the head of the long table, his arms crossed, his face hard as rock. Lois was beside him, a map of the territory spread across the table. Nyssa stood near the window. Nathan and Freya were at the far end, close together. They were all in the hall.
"The rogue talked before he died," Rowan said.
"What did he say?" Nathan asked.
"That an attack is coming. He didn't know when, only that the camps are waiting for a signal. He wasn't high enough to know the details."
"Did he
