Finn covered his eyes in frustration. “Trachiador,” he asked, already knowing the answer, “have you ever fought the hatebreed?”

“No,” the big troll admitted.

“Have you ever even met one?”

“No.”

“Let me explain about them. The thing about the hatebreed is that they're not strong, they're not brave and they're probably the worst soldiers in this world. And that includes grunts. Get close enough to one and you can snap its neck like a twig. We certainly could, and so could any human. They're almost as small as children.”

Trachiador looked confused. “So what then is the problem?” he asked, puzzled. “They do not sound very tough or hard to defeat.”

“They're not,” agreed Finn. “If you can get close enough to one to snap its neck. That's the hard part. You see, hatebreed are the ultimate cowards. They allow others to do their fighting for them, turning friend against friend by exuding waves of uncontrollable and irresistable hate. That's why they're called hatebreed: they literallly breed hate. They're born, so far as anyone knows, with an inordinate amount of hatred for everything and everyone, including themselves, but they learn – those that survive, and not that many do – to control this hatred, and later, if they live long enough, to focus and direct it. In effect, it becomes a weapon, possibly the most destructive and dangerous weapon known to living beings.”

“I see you still need convincing,” Finn looked at his cousin. “I once watched as three friends, who had known each other for years, fought in the same wars, and married each other's sisters, happened to fall foul of one of these loathsome creatures. All it took was one look, and within moments an argument had sprung up, out of nothing, escalated into a fight which left two of them dead, and the sole survivor looking for others to take on. There is no defence against concentrated hate, cuz. Even such as we will have to make a conscious effort to resist it. Humans have no chance. Let any more than one within a hundred yards of even a weak hatebreed, and they would be at each other's throats before they got within slashing distance of their prey. They're simply impossible to defeat.”

“But we can take them on.” Understanding was beginning to dawn on Trachiador's creased features. Finn favoured him with a grin.

“We can certainly try,” he agreed. “We have a far better chance of fighting against their influence than does any other living creature. We're trained to control our emotions, not to give in to base feelings, not to show what's in our hearts and not to respond to attempts to goad us. It's what makes us such good warriors.”

A sudden look of homesickness passed over Trachiador's face. Finn moved swiftly on.

“However, as you and I both know, the prevailing belief that we have no emotions is inaccurate. We of course do: we simply don't show them and we're not slaves to them. Well,” he admitted with a thin smile, “you more than I of course. That's a problem for me: I've spent so long unlearning all I was taught and fighting against our indoctrination that I've really let my emotions free, certainly in the last fifty or so years anyway. It will be a lot harder for me to resist these creatures, but we must try. If they succeed in turning the town against itself it will tear itself apart, and be easy prey for its enemies. This is,” he remarked darkly, “what I assume the traitors who let them into Deadwitch are hoping for. And nobody will ever be able to prove it was them.”

“So how do we make them pay then,” asked Trachiador. “These traitors?”

“We can't,” admitted Finn sourly. “Not really. Not now. We have no evidence. But men like that are always found out, sooner or later. They'll slip up, and when they do ... But we must leave that to others. Our priority now is to destroy their plan by hunting down and killing these hatebreed. And we must get them all. Even one left roaming the city could cause chaos the likes of which we could never hope to repair, and all the ones we killed would be for nothing. Not one must survive.”

“Agreed.” Trachiador's own eyes, though still as clear as they always were, as blank and colourless, nevertheless gave the impression of darkening. “Victory must be total. No survivors, and no prisoners.”

Finn heaved a sigh. “It won't be easy,” he warned his adopted cousin. “Even if we both resist them, they can easily turn others against us. When in the grip of the Hate, people don't think clearly, and just because someone attacks us does not mean we can kill them. If we have to, and there is no other alternative, then we will do so. But I would prefer to add as few innocents to the death toll as possible.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Incapacitate. Wound if you have no choice. Render unconscious if you can, or only inflict minor wounds. Some humans – those who have not fought before and more to the point never saw a troll before we arrived – may run at the very sight of us. The Hate can make them want to kill us, but common sense and self-preservation may triumph. More than anything though, do not allow a hatebreed to distract you by throwing enemies at you while it escapes. Try to take them out as quickly as possible, and make sure you strike to kill. As I say, they're easy to slay once you can get near them, either with your bare hands or any weapon that comes to hand. They have no other special powers, they cannot protect themselves if their mantle of hatred is removed or neutralised.”

A strange look crossed Trachiador's features. “I think,” he said, “I may know a way we can even up the odds a little.”

“How?” asked Finn, interested. The other troll shook his head.

“It may not work,” he told him. “And if as you say these hatebreed can read the thoughts of others, then with your ... lapse in emotional control it were probably best I keep the details to myself for now. Just in case.”

He couldn't help feeling a stab of savage joy at the momentary look of hurt that clouded Finn's face. He had basically told the other troll he could not trust him – which he knew, in the circumstances, he could not – and Finn did not like it. But he didn't have to like it. Trachiador was a creature of logic, and this was what logic dictated. The less people who knew of the plan, the better for their chances of success.

And those chances most likely hinged on him.

Ah, but, with your recent experiences as a human, hissed a dark voice in his head, it may be you who is the more susceptible to these hatebreed, have you considered that?

Hoping the other troll did not see the sudden look of uncertainty on his own face, he followed Finn out the door.