The Goddess was about to clean the poor trees when she noticed the mountain still continued to crumble despite the flood being drained away. Something was not right. The rocks were wearing away on their own, cliffs crumbled to boulders that crumbled to stones that formed into a river of scree hissing down the mountainside.
Vantaiga watched as the debris slid into the valley. She growled angrily as she realised what was happening. She thrust her arm into the side of the mountain, and with some effort, pulled out a dirty and withered dark figure that clutched and clawed at her arm trying to get away.
It was Festor, the Mad God of Death and Decay. He had been spying on the two. Vantaiga glared at the scrawny, crazed figure that struggled, animal-like. “You have no business here.”
Festor laughed maniacally. It came out as a cacophony of noise through his blackened teeth. He spat at her in a jarring assembly of voices as he clawed and struggled to break free. Each individual word he spoke was in the voice of a different person. “” The words and voices were that of countless souls constantly struggling for control of the demented god’s fragmented mind.
The strange, disjointed voices made Vantaiga’s ears and head hurt. She thrashed him harshly and yelled, “No! You don’t!” She hurled the emaciated immortal over the mountain range and into the desert far beyond her forest.
She shook her head in anger at the intrusion, but it was cut short by burning pain in her arms. The scratches from Festor began turning black, and her flesh was beginning to rot. She might be immortal, but she was not immune to a disease from Festor.
She stepped over to the mudslide from Hydar’s storm and scooped up the wet dirt. She spread it over the scratches, and with her magic and control of life, she pulled Festor’s decay from her skin. The spell immediately brought soothing relief. She rubbed the now foul mud off in disgust leaving her arm free of marks. Finally, all her intruders were gone. With a sigh of relief, she turned her attention to the one person that she actually wanted in her valley.
***
Syffox emerged from the mountain shadows that enclosed the pass to Vantaiga’s paradise. The valley plain opened, greeting him with a warm breeze. He chuckled to himself at the view of the sparse trees and plants. For all the grand plans the Goddess had in mind, Syffox knew it would be a while before any of them flourished. She could build a forest with her own two hands for the sake of the animals and trees and settlers, but with all the power in the world, she still didn’t know how to cater to herself.
He walked into the valley and towards the river traversing its centre. He had long changed from the white robes of the ceremony and was dressed in simple fitted clothes of greens and browns, the unassuming traditional dress of the forest people. In his hand, he held a thin sumac walking stick, topped with a small cluster of branches and leaves to shade him from Coronus’s gaze. Strapped to his back were the only items he ever travelled with: a quiver of arrows and a large ancient bow in a leather wrap. The bow was also the only item that remained of his life before Vantaiga.
As he looked across the valley, he could see, at the far end, the clouds of Hydar. He rolled his eyes with a sigh. He was not surprised to see that the rain god was here. He had never been keen on Hydar’s eagerness to see Vantaiga become a Goddess. He’d felt that once he joined with her, though, it would be something they could deal with together.
Syffox took a deep breath to clear his head and focus on more pleasant possibilities of the future. The opportunity to join his Goddess was not lost. He had spent most of the time of his long journey to her paradise convincing himself of that. The mantel was always active, and he could join her any time by merely touching it. All it would take was his Goddess’s willingness to accept him. Sadness, with a touch of panic, crept over him. Would she ever be willing to accept him?
He dismissed the thought.
He knew one day she would be. For both their sakes, one day she would have to be. Without him joining her, she was not powerful enough to fend off the gods should they grow tired of her green sanctuary in the middle of their hard, dusty world, and without her…
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Syffox stopped and kicked at the dry dirt of the path. Without her, he was just wasting time until he, himself, was only dust. He drew in a long, calming breath. His Goddess wouldn’t let that happen. He would just have to be patient until the day she could see that.
The breeze picked up into a gust that brought a swirl of leaves around Syffox. It rustled with the sound of poplars, a sound like water pouring over stones. He always found the wind in the poplars soothing. A broad smile came over him. His Goddess had thought of him.
Syffox spread his arms, and in a rush of wind and leaves, Vantaiga emerged, swooping towards him.
“Foxie!” she cried as she embraced him.
Laughing and stumbling backwards from her impact, Syffox grasped on to her. “I missed you—”
His words were muffled by Vantaiga’s lips pressing hard against his. Syffox let himself melt into her kiss, let it soothe the aches of his long journey, let it melt away thoughts of rejection.
The power and presence of the Goddess washed over him, filling him with a sense of peace and devotion, pushing everything from his mind except the feeling of her touch and being. His body became enveloped in warmth, and his will faded away; such an intimate touch from his now immortal lover was overwhelming. He forgot where he was, and reality faded, leaving him floating in a world of love for his Goddess.
Vantaiga sensed something was wrong. Syffox was not kissing her back; he was losing strength. She pulled her lips away from him.
Dazed and bleary, Syffox struggled to focus. Vantaiga giggled as he shook his head to bring himself back to reality. Breathlessly, Syffox struggled with his words. “That… is going to take some getting used to.”
Vantaiga looked him darkly in the eyes. “Well, you better get used to it quick.” She kissed him again.
Half laughing, half gasping, Syffox managed to push her back. “Why don’t we work on it later?”
Feigning her disappointment, Vantaiga spoke softly. “I guess I’m just going to have to take it easy on you, old man.”
Syffox was stung; he was not supposed to be an old man anymore. He brushed aside the pang, wanting to keep his Goddess’s playful mood. He raised an eyebrow to her tease. “In my defence, you are considerably more woman now.”
“In your defence, you are considerably old.”
The pang deepened; Syffox struggled to remain playful. Hostility crept into his voice. “That’s not fair. I didn’t train to kiss a Goddess.”
Irritation hardened Vantaiga’s expression. “I thought I was always your Goddess. Is it so different now?”
With the power of her divine presence, Syffox’s anger withered. He drew in a stuttered breath to focus his thoughts but found he couldn’t. “It is different now.”
A conflicted look crossed Vantaiga before she finally grabbed his hand. “Well, come. It’s a nice day. I have a surprise to show you.” She whisked Syffox up and flew him across the valley to bring him before her new stand of trees.
Syffox realised he had never seen such trees before. “This is a new creation?”
Vantaiga nodded eagerly. “Yes. It didn’t take that long to create, either. I find with my new power I can create any tree I want.”
While Syffox examined the trees, she shot a quick glance to the failed specimen she had been working on earlier. With a gesture of her hand, she withered it to dust.
Syffox pulled a leaf from the new tree and studied its points and veins. He was finding it hard to be interested but didn’t want to spoil Vantaiga’s mood. “It’s a very nice tree. What are you going to call it?”
Vantaiga beamed. “I call it a Syfus tree! It’s my gift to you!”
Syffox smiled back. “Thank you.” He was pleased that she’d thought of a gift for him but wasn’t actually sure what kind of an honour it was to have a tree named after him.
“Oh, but you haven’t seen everything of it yet. Let me explain my design.” She grabbed him by the hand and led him into the grove.
Seeing her happy with her accomplishments lifted Syffox’s mood. She rarely allowed herself moments of pride.
“I gave it dark green leaves for your eyes.” She grabbed some leaves from a low branch and flipped them over. “But the underside of the leaf is silver-blue, so when the wind blows, the leaves change colour, like your eyes sometimes do.”
She hurried him along to a clearing at the centre of the grove. “And as a finale”—she waved her arms over her head and the canopy of leaves above them turned brilliant red—“at the end of the season, the leaves turn red for your hair and beard.” She plucked at his reddish-brown hair, examining it. “And the bark of the trunk is grey—for the grey hairs you have.”
“Thank you, Goddess. I’m flattered the world will have such a grand reminder of my greying hair.”
“I’m just kidding.” She playfully pushed him. “The bark came out grey when I was trying to get the underside colour of the leaves right. So, I left it. What do you think?”
Syffox gave her a big hug and let himself enjoy the pull of her body. “I love it almost as much as I love you. I am very honoured, Goddess.”
Vantaiga’s composure softened with relief. She looked him in the eyes and gently ran her fingers through his hair. “So are you ready for some kissing practice? There’s something I’d like to do that we couldn’t if we joined.” Syffox was not impressed by her comment. “Only if you’ll be good.”
Vantaiga grasped his shoulders and looked him seriously in the eyes. “Don’t worry about that. You know I’m good.”