Horizon's Edge

   The cannonshot ripped across the bow of the Grâce, missing the ship by scant inches. The General swore beneath his breath and gripped the railing even harder. Splinters cracked beneath his panzerhand.

   "How much farther?!" he shouted to his first mate. Crouching in the forecastle, Timothy le Beau gave him a grin.

   "Just beyond the next bend!"

   The Castillian guns fired again, and again the Grâce lurched in a desparate effort to avoid their wrath. It had been this way since El Morro. The armed galleons which pursued him had no intention of letting him escape with the Inquisition's most valued prisoner. The Grâce was fast and his crew were the best, but it was only a matter of time before a cannister of grapeshot found its mark.

   The General steadied himself as the Grâce made another fast tack. He looked up to see the bruised face of Admiral Orduño, who was clinging somewhat less precariously to the railing.

   "I must apologise," Orduño spoke above the gunfire, "for my captains' doggedness. They are good men and I cannot fathom what lies the Inquisition have invented about me."

   "I appreciate it, mein Herr, but we knew this journey had its share of perils."

   More cannonballs splashed in the water off to port. The Grâce arced gracefully around them, then arrowed towards a small tributary which branched off the Delia's main channel. Orduño's eyes widened.

   "Not that way, seNor! They'll have us trapped!"

   "No they won't" The General pointed. "Look!"

   Across the width of the tributary stretched an impossibly huge Porté hole. It tore into the fabric of reality like an open wound, its sides pulsing and bleeding with monstrous life. Along its sides - perched in trees or wading in the river's shallows - a small group of Montaigne strained to hold it open. Their hands bled as red as the colossal opening, their faces strained with the sorcerous effort.

   "How in Theus' name..." Orduño gasped.

   "The five best Porté mages in l'Empereur's Navy." The General's teeth flashed in a mad smile. "It's large enough to fit a vessel of this size."

   "We can't go through there!" Orduño shouted.

   A cannonball struck their side, tearing a cleft in the Grâce. The galleons behind them were closing.

   "We have no choice!" The General returned. "I alerted every Castillian fortress on my way up! We cannot run that gauntlet a second time!"

   "But this is madness!"

   "Would you prefer the flames?"

   Orduño pondered silently for a moment while the Grâce drew even closer to the gaping hole.

   "It will be all right," the General reassured him. "Timothy's prepared a gateway on the other side." As he spoke, he saw members of his crew lashing themselves to any firm anchor. A deep rumble sounded from the hole, like the roar of some monstrous beast.

   "Why are you doing this?!" Orduño asked.

   "Because I promised your frau I'd save you. And for once, I mean to keep my word."

   Orduño blinked then held out his hand. The General too it. "I was right," the Castillian intoned. "You are a man of honour."

   The figurehead passed through the Porté hole and the sound became unbearable. The General clenched the railing with his free hand and raised his voice. "Everyone close your eyes!"

   Orduño lowered his head reverently. "May the arms of Theus open to you. May His embrace keep you safe from Legion's talons..."

   "Here we go!"

   With a convulsive shudder and an inhuman scream, the Grâce passed into the hole. Red arcs shot out from the sides of the portal like veins. The mage on the topmost branch howled in agony and fell from his perch, his body swelling with blood-red boils. The tiller passed into the breach and the Porté hole collapsed with a wet rending sound. A second mage dropped lifelessly into the river while his colleagues struggled to contain the pain shooting heedlessly through their limbs.

   The Grâce and her crew were gone.