Free Trapped by Kevin Hearne

if we ditch them. Do you? «
    My apprentice shook her head. » No, I think that would actually be good. I don’t want to listen to them. «
    › They kind of sound like those chefs on TV when they taste their own food at the end of their shows. You know what I mean? ‹
    Foodgasms, yeah .
    › Excellent word! I’ll have to remember that. ‹
    We shifted to a well-traveled riverbank in Tír na nÓg, and I smiled as Granuaile gasped and dove for cover, while Oberon began to bark loudly.
    Heh. Calm down, buddy, it won’t get us .
    › Oh. Warn a hound next time, will you? ‹
    » Oh, my God! Is that a dragon ? « Granuaile said, peeking from behind the trunk of the ancient tree we’d used to shift.
    » Yep. «
    » Like, for reals? It’s not a wax replica or something like that? «
    » No, it’s very much for reals. «
    » Then how come it’s hanging in the air there and not moving? «
    » It is moving. It’s just in a slower timestream. Welcome to the Time Islands, the source of all those stories about how time moves differently in Faerie than in the mortal world. «
    We stood on the bank of a river not quite as wide as the Mississippi but doing very well for itself. In the middle, stretching both upriver and down, islands of various sizes displayed rather interesting vignettes. One of the more stunning was the huge golden dragon floating only thirty yards in front of us. Its wings were outspread and beating slowly downward against the air, its jaws open and presumably hissing. An egg warmed in the sand of the island beach beneath it.
    » Can it see us? «
    » Nope. We’re a blur to it—sort of like mist—since we’re in a faster timestream. See those islands there? « I pointed downriver to some nebulous shapes. » They’re moving even faster than we are. To anyone standing there looking at us right now, we’re either moving very slowly or as good as frozen, like that dragon seems to be frozen to us. «
    » So that dragon thinks it’s flying in its normal timestream? «
    » Yep. Eventually, if it keeps going in the same direction, it will bust out of there. That will be an exciting day for the Fae, if they let it happen. About a thousand years ago—the last time I checked—the claws of its hind legs were still touching the sand. She’s launching an attack, you see, defending her egg. «
    » Defending it from what? «
    » Whatever asshole faery decided to go bag it centuries ago. Maybe it was one of the Tuatha Dé Danann who brought it here, I don’t know. Somebody wanted to show off. «
    Granuaile cocked her head to one side. » Isn’t that what you’re doing right now, sensei? «
    » What? Well, no, « I said. » This is definitely somebody else’s show. I just thought you might like it. Don’t you think it’s cool and neato-schmeato and stuff? «
    » Oh, yes. I do. « She fluttered her eyelashes at me. » Is there anything else you’d like to show me? «
    » There’s someone upriver you might recognize, « I said. » It’s not that far. Keep your eyes open as we go. « I pointed up into the canopy, where several pairs of eyes were already watching us. Pixies and other flying varieties of Fae hovered or perched in the tree above us.
    » Right, « Granuaile said, her tone businesslike. She hefted her staff in her hand. At my suggestion, which she accepted readily at the time, she had affixed iron caps to either end. The Fae would see that and know that messing with her came with a certain amount of risk. » Ready. «
    We hiked upriver along the bank by ourselves; as Oberon had predicted, Flidais and Perun had not followed us and were no doubt engaged in heated, hirsute carnality in Manannan’s field.
    I asked Oberon to take point; Granuaile was next, and I brought up the rear. Oberon had my permission to treat anything that didn’t look human as hostile, provided they wouldn’t get out of our way first.
    Give them a warning growl and a commanding bark, at least, before you destroy them , I