Free The Well of Wyrding (Revenant Wyrd Book 3) by Travis Simmons Page A

in wonder at the ground
    “There is no need for weapons,” the voice hummed through them again, and the willows moved lazily in the breeze. “There is no harm coming from our quarter. We seek to protect you, children of the LaFaye, no matter what our youthful gnomes feel.”
    “What do you mean youthful?” Joya said.
    “The averanym,” Maeven said gleefully. “I knew there was something different about these trees, they looked too … wyrd.”
    “That we are, the elders of the race of gnomes, and are feared by them as much as revered. We are what become of the Gnome Kings, the Germinant Gobs, once they settle and pass from life as a gnome.
    “We have stood guard here when the elves themselves were not a thought in the minds of the Mikak’e. We know of your blood, and of your intentions.” The voice was clear, commanding, and all the LaFaye youths remembered lessons with Destra. They knew the averanym could take any plant form they desired, which meant that the ring of willows they stood within was one such gathering of ancient elementals. “Pharoh and Sylvie were grand masters of the Goddess. We revered them, us who are revered by many within this realm. We know the importance of your wyrd, and will not let it be tainted and abused by our youth. It is lucky you stumbled upon us when you did.”
    Joya looked to her feet and noticed the flowers perking up there. She wondered if all the plants within the area were averanym, for indeed these very flowers seemed to be sniffing her, as if they were scenting her worth or basking in her fragrance, which she doubted was very pretty after so long without a bath. Still, she could not help but smile at them.
    “You came to our border just after your display of wyrd, which is why the gnomes would not follow, for they could not. We knew their intentions, and stopped them from coming within our borders, stopped them from retrieving you for their foul plans.”
    “For that we are most grateful,” Maeven said.
    The averanym did not respond, yet there was an air of approval about all of them that told them their words were accepted.
    “It might be wise, weary traveler, for you to seek shelter here for the night. There will be no need for watches, for none intent on harm can enter here while we stand watch.” The voice was soothing, calming, and instantly they all felt the air around them thicken, as if sleep itself was something tangible, something contagious like the yawns they were all trying, with little success, to stifle.
    One by one they all relinquished their hold on wakefulness and crumpled to the ground in sleep. Not even the thought that soon Porillon could be on them kept them from sleep’s sweet embrace that night. Their dreams were filled with visions so pleasant that they never wished to wake. For the life of them they could not remember when was the last time they had a truly good sleep free of some ominous dream.
    The next morning when they finally woke they were greeted by the most amazing breakfast. It tasted all the better, not only because it was taken in a most fantastic grove, but also because they had not had a meal of this caliber in such a long time.
    The breakfast consisted miraculously of all the things they liked most, including coffee and cream. Bacon and eggs, ham and toast, porridge and fruit, butter and bread, all of this they had. Odd as it was for such items to be found in the grove, none of them asked how it came to be there, greeting them in a most welcome fashion. There were no complaints, for the bread was still warm, and the butter fresh, and their stomachs growled in thanks to whatever power brought this to their palates.
    In time, bellies full and wide awake, the group began to cast around wondering what to do next. They were certain that as long as they were in the Grove of the averanym they were safe, but also the longer they rested here the closer Porillon got, and all she really had to do was wait outside the ring of willows for