This is part of a larger work, but perhaps self-contained enough to put here with only a little context. The idea is that the Theomach's special steed is a being capable of swimming/sailing, and on this do Berek and Kenaustin Ardenol sojourn to the One Tree; and at this point they've arrived to rest on a massive crystal island made all of Sunstone and malachite. Berek "hears" the island talking to him and replies by chanting the Seven Words. By now he's wandered off on his own so the Theomach has to chase him down.
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- Entranced by this apotheosis of epiphany, Berek hummed the Seven Words, trumpeted them in his mind—and the orcrest around him replied with absolute halation.
United with the spirit of the Earth, standing on a plateau in the empyreal wastes, the Lord-Fatherer began again—like the world anew—to understand.
* * *
When the Theomach decided to go look for Berek, the High Lord had wandered nearly four leagues away. If the Earthpower were not accelerating his passage, the Theomach had no insight into what else might account for the quickening of the Land's scion.
Stressing his puissance perilously near to un-Lawfully, the Theomach hurried towards his acolyte, against the set of night.
* * *
Millennia of millennia had passed since the assumption of the Earth unto Creation. The tectonic splendor of the vast rock, finding its pinnacle now in Gravin Threndor and Melenkurion Skyweir, had perforce altered greatly over the ages. Berek witnessed, opalescing awe, as the chronicle of the Earth was revealed to his native sight.
Sixteen times ten thousand years in the past, living continents known in the language of the Law as Kohelim and Sandequilim effloresced Creation as they gave rise to forests both above and below the seas. In an even further lost epoch, the mass of land named Elererim dominated the horizons. Nearer to the origins of sempiternity, Fire-Lions roared glory across an innominate vulcanic demesne. Elsewhere, Banas Nimoram dawned. In every age, only the map of the Land itself did not change. [Admittedly this is an inside joke, as we readers have seen the map of the Land change at least a little as new books came out over the years.]
Clinquant tranquility encrystalled the High Lord. He could hardly imagine a reason to move. But he kept walking.
Sunlight gave birth to itself on the edges of an ancient water. Deep in that water, radial munificence crawled like the Earth's innocence.
Diaphonous were-flowers [a fancy phrase for "jellyfish"] also drifted in the abysses of wet cerulean. Heralding miracles, aliantha first achieved fruition.
Berek unconsciously frowned when an enigma pulsed in front of him.
The Ynahyn, ancestors of the destriers of the far west [not the Ranyhyn but the Insequents' horses], stampeded mystery in the caverns of Mount Lled Attadan.
The dark spoke to Berek without speaking.
Lover of grace, heed me. [This is a wide-wandering Vile.]
Ensorcellments counselled heedlessness of the High Lord.
In the name of loveliness, listen. Bountiful in glory as this realm may appear, there are many others upon the Earth that deserve your witness ere the end of all ages.
Berek marched to the edge of a mesa, peering into the abyss of crystal with quiet enthusiasm. “Melenkurion abatha,” he intoned. “Duroc minas mill. Harad khabaal.” Centuries of discovery pioneered across the High Lord's soul.
What age but eternity merited Berek's attention? And what was truly eternal save the enduring stone of Life?
The Isle of the One Tree danced with the veil of Elemesnedene. No Soulbiter raved in any seas. And, the orcrest whispered thankfully, the Worm of the World's End slept, disturbed by no dreams.
Shadowed by a long chaos of lithic hymns, Berek chanted the Seven Words, pearlescing the canyon around him with Earthpower. Myriads of insights flickered like notes in the song of Death and Life. A sandstorm in the Great Desert served for wings, and he mourned like an angel at the birth of osseous desert fiends.
In another dire waste, he endured the rape of the Earth to erect the dire city of Doriendor Corishev.
And in a lost deep, a stone had been carved into a prophecy of final Despite.
Lover of the Land, recall Andelain.
Berek's frown he directed towards himself.
His wandering heart found the grave of a strange memory amidst the sacred gravity of the island's draw on his mind.
There, a being like a web of theurgy communicated a shovel to Berek.
However, the stars themselves appealed to him to turn away from the dust below. Or their tangible dread, their withdrawal from the sight of the Earth, appealed to his passions. Whatever the reason, the High Lord looked towards midnight and returned to the search of Time.
Four hundred thousand years before Damelon was born, the weight of the Law exalted Rivenrock to the stature of the site of the EarthBlood. Liquescence incarnate, the Nicor gyred like rivers from the aura of the Worm of the World's End a thousand ages earlier. Far longer ago than that, the One Rock first spoke to itself the Seven Words.
Now he stood still near an enormous mass of malachite. Orcrest affixed themselves like barnacles to its edges. Berek reiterated the light of the song of the sun; the crystal sentinel replied with laughing wisdom.
And gold and silver abounded upon the wide Earth. From era to era, deposits of promise yielded payments of spectacle. Ever was the attempt made with such sterling magic to perfect the wielder's might. Perhaps to be thankful for more than the slumber of the Worm, no wizard had ever yet fully mastered argency's glory.
The roots of the stars grew into the loam of the Isle of the One Tree. And then Berek was transubstantiated as if he had become hurtloam. Land-sight was Earth-sight, and all beauty seemed nearly incarnate in the High Lord's presence.
Yet Andelain—sky and soil, tree and brook—was more beautiful still. Berek would remember that, if that alone, even in Death. Sighing grace, he silenced his aubade, setting twilight on the landscape.
* * *
When the Theomach arrived, Berek was already marching back to the shore. “A glamour may prove a word of sooth as easily as a lie,” the High Lord murmured in explanation of his dire exaltation, the sublime pain reflected in his eyes. Nodding eyelessly, the Theomach queried his student as to whether he was ready for departure.
