Elric_ The Sleeping Sorceress - Michael Moorcock [111]
Elric shook his head. “Not Yyrkoon. It is Grome. And I know no way to placate him. Not Grome, who thinks least of all the kings of the elements, yet, perhaps, is the most powerful.”
“But surely he breaks his bargain with his brother by doing this to us?”
“No. I think not. King Straasha warned us this might happen. We can only hope that Grome expends all his energy and that the ship survives, as it might survive a natural storm at sea.”
“This is worse than a sea-storm, Elric!”
Elric nodded his agreement but could say nothing, for the deck was tilting at a crazy angle and he had to cling to the rails with both hands in order to retain any kind of footing.
And now the silence stopped.
Instead they heard a rumbling and a roaring that seemed to have something of the character of laugher.
“King Grome!” Elric shouted. “King Grome! Let us be! We have done you no harm!”
But the laughter increased and it made the whole ship quiver as the land rose and fell around it, as trees and hills and rocks rushed towards the ship and then fell away again, never quite engulfing them, for Grome doubtless wanted his ship intact.
“Grome! You have no quarrel with mortals!” Elric cried again. “Let us be! Ask a favour of us if you must, but grant us this favour in return!”
Elric was shouting almost anything that came into his head. Really, he had no hope of being heard by the earth god and he did not expect King Grome to bother to listen even if the elemental did hear. But there was nothing else to do.
“Grome! Grome! Grome! Listen to me!”
Elric’s only response was in the louder laughter which made every nerve in him tremble. And the earth heaved higher and dropped lower and the ship spun round and round until Elric was sure he would lose his senses entirely.
“King Grome! King Grome! Is it just to slay those who have never done you harm?”
And then, slowly, the heaving earth subsided and the ship was still and a huge, brown figure stood looking down at the ship. The figure was the colour of earth and looked like a vast, old oak. His hair and his beard were the colour of leaves and his eyes were the colour of gold ore and his teeth were the colour of granite and his feet were like roots and his skin seemed covered in tiny green shoots in place of hair and he smelled rich and musty and good and he was King Grome of the Earth Elementals. He sniffed and he frowned and he said in a soft, mighty voice that was yet coarse and grumpy: “I want my ship.”
“It is not our ship to give, King Grome,” said Elric.
Grome’s tone of petulance increased. “I want my ship,” he said slowly. “I want the thing. It is mine.”
“Of what use is it to you, King Grome?”
“Use? It is mine.”
Grome stamped and the land rippled.
Elric said desperately: “It is your brother’s ship, King Grome. It is King Straasha’s ship. He gave you part of his domain and you allowed him to keep the ship. That was the bargain.”
“I know nothing of a bargain. The ship is mine.”
“You know that if you take the ship then King Straasha will have to take back the land he gave you.”
“I want my ship.” The huge figure shifted its position and bits of earth fell from it, landing with distinctly heard thuds on the ground below and on the deck of the ship.
“Then you must kill us to obtain it,” Elric said.
“Kill? Grome does not kill mortals. He kills nothing. Grome builds. Grome brings to life.”
“You have already killed three of our company,” Elric pointed out. “Three are dead, King Grome, because you made the land-storm.”
Grome’s great brows drew together and he scratched his great head, causing an immense rustling noise to sound. “Grome does not kill,” he said again.
“King Grome has killed,” said Elric reasonably. “Three lives lost.”
Grome grunted. “But I want my ship.”
“The ship is lent to us by your brother. We cannot give it to you. Besides, we sail in it for a purpose—a noble purpose, I think. We . . .”
“I know nothing of ‘purposes’—and care nothing for you. I want my ship. My brother should not have lent it to you. I had almost forgotten it. But now that