Shadows twisted away from the figure as it advanced down the long tunnel, a lamp high hovering at its left shoulder. The heavy robes that completely concealed the man rustled as he passed narrow side-clefts in the natural rock formation, mingling with the barely audible trickle of the stream, somewhere underfoot. The hard light of the outside world, barely penetrating the entrance to the tunnel, was already but a pin-prick in the dim distance behind him. The figure marched on.
The tunnel began to twist, first left, then right, descending now steeply into the bowels of the planet's crust. The rocks at this depth were crystalline as if they had been created in the boiling of the planet's magma in some cataclysmic inferno. The lamp picked out glass-like facets in the rocky walls and paper-thin geodes absorbed it hungrily, glowing in many hues with their new-stolen energy.
The amorphous shadow of a man continued doggedly onward, his feet sending pebbles tracked in from above skittering deeper into the tunnel as it spiralled down into the abyssal darkness. The bulb of light hovered at his shoulder like a lost soul on the road to damnation. Together they travelled into the vaults as if bound for the depths of hell.
The tunnel gave out into a long dead magma chamber. The floor levelled out, melding from uneven stone to a plumbed metallic grille work as he entered the installation at the heart of the Rift. Most of it loomed invisible above him, a behemoth of steel struts and bulkheads, a sleeping dragon made of rockrete and iron, filling the vast underground chamber. Predominantly unlit, cold and dead, the installation had long been manned by only the minimum of personnel. Now it was colonised by a virtual colony of menials and mercenaries. One of great generators had been reactivated to provide them with power, but even this was not enough to revive the beast.
The robed figure passed through the mercenary cordon unchallenged. Hard faced killers refused to make eye contact with the mysterious figure, looking away as he penetrated their perimeter. These were the dregs of humanity, cold-hearted murderers whose only motivation was that of cold, hard cash. But even these men would not seek the attention of the new arrival. An aura of forbidding went before him and surrounded him.
He passed through the massive portal, admitting himself to the arterial concourse that ran through the heart of the complex. Here and there along the walls were pools of cold light where men gathered around portable heater units powered by miniature generators. The installation's one operable generator was dedicated to the mysterious goings on in the innermost chambers. The mercenary retinue had to make do with what they had brought in themselves.
The robed man passed by, silence preceding him and following in his wake as the clusters of men sensed him come near and ceased their aimless chatter. Each of them felt a shudder travel down his spine and a sense of unease infused their veins, causing small hairs to stand and capillaries dilate.
At the far end of the great corridor he halted before another equally massive portal, this one magnetically sealed and guarded by one man and the hunched forms of several arco-flagellants, curled up in the shadows to either side.
'Master… you have come…'
'You will open the door,' said the robed man, his voice reedy and thin, beautiful and yet simultaneously as repellent as the aura that surrounded him.
The guardian leapt to obey. The grinding of ancient, rusted gears was like the belly-growl of some primordial dragon. The metal decking vibrated underfoot as a crack wide enough to admit the robed man formed in the durasteel portal. He passed through like the wraith he was, lowering the lamp as he entered a dimly lit mezzanine.
Another of the inner circle stood within and ushered him to the elevator cage that had been restored to safe working order. Together they rattled down into the very heart of the complex, far beneath the volcanic bedrock, to a series of small laboratories that had never seen the light of any star.
The elevator operator bowed as the master stepped out of the cage.
'Return to the upper chambers. Do not return until I signal you,' the robed man commanded. The operator hurriedly pressed the green button and rattled upward in his cage
Two strangely formed figures emerged from the laboratory that branched off the left hand side of the narrow corridor. Their skulls were oddly shaped, their skin giving the impression they were suffering from prolonged hypoxia. Their bodies were stocky and encased in exoskeletal augmentation that also supported a halo of mechanical orbs above their cranial plates. Their feet were strangely twisted and their hands inhuman, their eyes rested with unfaltering intensity upon the man no one else could bear to be around.
'Ah, my pretties, our reunion is a tonic for my tortured soul. Has the archon arrived?'
They nodded in unison, parting to allow him to pass between them and into the side-room. Another figure waited within, rakishly tall and whip-cord thin, with dark, skin-tight mesh armour covering his lupine body. The archon turned his baleful glare upon the newcomer.
'By the Black Heart of Vect, where have you been?' he hissed, his body tensing like a coiled spring.
'Be still,' the robed man replied, offhandedly. 'My comings and goings are none of your business, Shakael. You have sworn yourself to my cause and you will obey me until such time as an opportunity to sink a blade in my back arises. Not before.'
'I have no need to go sneaking around behind you in order to bring that about, creature! My knife will sheath itself in your bowels the moment your usefulness to me expires.'
'That is as it may be. For now, I have a small undertaking for you.'
'What is it this time?'
'The Hunter has arrived. He is headed here as we speak and he must be stopped. Capture him if you can. You may kill the rest.'
'Ah, finally a task worthy of my skills. Very well then, I will gather my warriors.'
The archon sauntered out of the room, passing close to the robed form to show that he was not afraid to close the distance between them. Nevertheless the robed man could sense Shakael's distaste.
He waited for the warrior to leave by a different route to that he had used to enter, before passing through the laboratory and into the sparse chambers where he made his bed at night. Here the robes he wore were cast off, rustling to the floor to reveal a hideous parody of humanoid form. Grey, blotchy skin strained over his misshapen skull, long, gangling limbs bent at odd angles and were adorned with a multitude of scars and augmentations of macabre design. His spine curled to form an ugly hump that gave him a stooped appearance now that the robes were discarded.
He reached down to his belt and unhooked the Anathema, shedding the aura of repellence to become little more than a misshapen crone. The silver belt with its black-hearted stones became dormant without the warmth of flesh to feed it. He hung it on the back of the door to his chambers and covered it with his borrowed robes.
At the head of his pallet was a compact communications device that had been spliced into the main vox relay of the facility, sheathed in encryption codes to make it impossible to intercept and translate. He activated the screen and waited for the connection to be made. Before long the hooded form of the Master formed on the green-lit screen.
'Your nemesis comes, my lord!' the haemonculi hissed.
'He is slipping.' The vague, hooded form chuckled. 'I expected he would catch up with us long before. Shakael has been dispatched?'
'He has, Master. Even now he is moving to bring the quarry to ground. He will no longer be the thorn in our side.'
'Good. Make sure the contingency is in place to succeed where he has failed. And hold fast, my faithful servant. Soon all impediments to our work will be excised. Soon, the galaxy will be ours to mould as we see fit…'