Excerpt: At the Edge of the Sky

"Do you know," Asher mused aloud, "how we've ended up in this mess?"

Jensen recognized the tone of the captain's voice. It might have sounded like a question, but there was already an answer. A less patient man might not have been so quick to indulge Asher's roundabout phrasing. But then, there was a gun to his back (and another to Asher's, for that matter). What was there to do in a situation like this but make a little conversation?

"Poor planning?" he guessed, biting back a sigh as the pair of them were led none-too-gently into the iron-barred brig before them.

"Hubris."

"Hubris?"

"The Greeks knew all about this sort of thing," Asher confirmed, palpable dismay flickering over his face as one of the sailors clamped shut the heavy padlock on the door. "Wrote about it in all of their greatest tragedies. Which I suppose makes us heroes, of a sort."

"I don't feel particularly heroic," Jensen admitted, taking a seat on the slatted bench that was likely going to serve as his bed for as long as he was in custody. It was a considerable understatement. Even if there was something vaguely fantastic about the life they led - there certainly was in Asher's eyes - this was less than a shining moment for anyone involved. As was so often the case, his appraisal of the situation did nothing to slow down the captain's train of thought.

"No, no. Their conception of a hero - it's not as we'd think, as the bloke who isn't a villain. Whether we're villains remains up for debate," he conceded - Jensen couldn't help a short, dry chuckle - "but at the very least we're certainly the stars of our own little epic. Consider it. You, and I, and indeed the whole crew, are all on great journeys."

Asher paused then, reaching up to smooth his hair back and retie it into its usual neat ponytail. He wrinkled his nose, suddenly pensive, and glanced over to his first mate. "Why am I explaining tragic heroes, again?"

"Hubris," Jensen reminded him.

"Ah, yes."