They never touched him. By the time they got there, he had moved, spinning with almost inhuman speed, snatching the knife from his belt so he was almost behind them, plunging it into the back of one man’s neck while kicking the second in the ribs, sending him flying backward, skidding past Albert before pulling the knife out in one smooth motion in time for the first man to crumple at his feet. Two quick steps and Marcus was standing in front of the other man, who was lying on his back at the edge of the precipice, shaking his head and looking dazed. Terror shone in the man’s eyes. Staggering to his feet, he jumped down the precipice, landing clumsily and rolling to a stop near one of the holes that dotted the landscape.

Then it all happened so fast it was like simultaneous events. They heard a noise, like a squeal or squeak—only much, much louder—and a huge creature, at least twice the size of a man, all dark fur and scaly tail, leapt out of the hole next to which the man’s head rested. Its massive yellow fangs dripped saliva and closed in to rip off the man’s lips, nose and most of the front half of his face even as the scream was still on its way out of his mouth, while another burst forth from the ground, tearing off the still-flailing legs from the torso, only to drop them promptly to defend itself against two more of the beasts, which were trying to snatch the prize away. Albert watched, horrified yet unable to look away, as more and more of the creatures poured out, hundreds of them—maniacally ripping and shredding and slashing and biting at the remaining scraps of the man, each other, even themselves. And with each fresh open wound, each new drop of blood that fell, they grew more and more hysterical. Their squeals and shrieks and screams filled the air, a chilling accompaniment to the dance of frenzied bloodlust.

Albert felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him backwards, and turned to see Marcus pointing to the wall. Above, all around, he could see men climbing down to the cavern floor, shimmying down almost unbelievably quickly.

‘Run, fool!’

He ran behind Marcus across the rim—the rest following close behind—towards the opening in the far wall that suddenly seemed so far away. From the corner of his eye he could see the pug-nosed man with the squeaky voice, who had been scuttling away from them as fast as he could but had now changed his mind and was running towards them, weapon raised high. No doubt the arrival of his comrades had something to do with his sudden change of heart.