The Rokkoh Adventures

Rokkoh and the Princess, Chapter 7

We don't stay moving for too long; Torvald stops again minutes later. He whispers a "We're here," as he opens the door. With hands like cotton I lift the princess into my arms. She fusses in her slumber only for a moment, but relaxes back into me in the same moment. Outside, on the dim-lit road, Torvald tends to the horse. A sign made of weathered wood hangs from a post in front of a building with lit windows. Carved deep into it, the sign shows the image of a roaring bear. Its snarling lips pulled back to reveal long and exaggerated teeth, its brow furrowed in seething anger, its eyes painted a blood red; there is no doubt of where we are.

The Ursa Lodge's common area is small and deserted, but the hearth still holds a fire. A counter sits at the far side of the room, and beyond it a door. Between the two, nose deep in a book, is a being of pale green skin, long and pointed ears that curve down under the burden of old age, and a frail frame. It looks like it wouldn't stand taller than my waist. As I approach the counter, its bald head rises to meet me with tired yellow eyes.

"Good evening," it says through crooked or otherwise missing teeth. "Welcome to the Ursa Lodge. How many?"

"Three," I answer. "I'm looking for Jerl."

Recognition shines in its goblin eyes for a moment. It sets down the book and hops off its little stool.

"Ah, then this must be the princess," it says, rounding the corner of the counter. "Is she alright? Heard all the yelling out there."

"She's fine, still sleeping," I say, not letting the little green thing get any closer to her. "Bandits blocked the bridge."

"Bandits?" it chuckles, turning back around when it realizes it won't get to lay a finger on the princess. It returns to the counter, pulling open a drawer of metal things and digging through it. "That would be a lot easier, wouldn't it?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, peering over the countertop and into the drawer.

"I mean," it slams the drawer shut hard, an old and rusted key ring in between its fingers, "those weren't fucking bandits."

"And if they weren't bandits, who were they?" I follow as the goblin heads toward the door, using one of the keys to unlock it. "Why were they after the princess?"

"So many stupid questions," it groans. "You'd think the queen would have hired someone with half a brain instead of just a beefcake."

"Hey," I snarl, taking it by its collar and raising its light body into the air. "Watch your mouth, goblin, or you'll be choking on your teeth." The fabric releases from my grip; to my disappointment, the thing lands on its feet.

"I need to see Jerl," I demand.

"And what do you think I'm doing?" it glares up at me, showing off its grimy teeth and black gums. "Leading you to a picnic? Just shut up and follow me."

With a huff, I obey. It leads me down the hallway, closed doors on either side. At the end of the hall is the backdoor and a downward staircase. We head down, following the spiral stone staircase until we get to the door at the bottom. Once unlocked with another key from the old ring, we enter another hallway. It's darker down here, fewer torches lining the walls. Although I have no reason to distrust this little beast, I keep Lavender ready in my hand. Open archways reveals an assortment of barrels and crates full of stock for the kitchens to keep guests happy and fed. We pass three such rooms, finally stopping at the only door. The key bends in the lock, but it holds together. Inside is a small room, smaller than the common area up above. The stone walls keep what I hope are creeping vines in their cracks. A lone candle sits on the wall opposite the door, which the goblins lights with a snap of his boney fingers. A mattress, surprisingly clean, takes up half of the room. On the wall to our left is a ladder. A square of rock has been cut out next to the ladder, a tiny bronze bell hovering there. The room is otherwise unimpressive.

"Where is Jerl?" I ask. "Is he meeting us here?"

"This," the goblin says, showing off the small space, "is Jerl. It's an old relic of a word from forgotten times. Means 'safehouse' or something like that. I know it doesn't look like much, but you won't find a better one-night hideout in town. If anyone comes lookin for you or the little one, I've rigged a line that will ring this pretty little bell." A little green finger with a sharpened fingernail points to the bell in the wall. "You hear that go off, take the ladder up into the alley. If your boy is smart, that's where he hitched your buggy for the night. I'll be sure to give him the spiel. You get some rest, big guy."

He pats my back, or what he can reach of it, on his way out. The door closes behind him, leaving Evalina and me in the dim light of the solitary candle. I set her down on the mattress, and for a brief second I worry that her slumber has slipped into something more permanent. However, she still breathes and sucks on the pacifier, so I let go of my paranoia. I slide onto the bed, nestled against the wall, and let the princess take as much room as her little self is able. She gets a whole pillow to herself, and I take the other. Almost as soon as I relax into the softness, sleep embraces me. Brief, at first; I wake up momentarily when a figure curls up at the foot of the bed, but seeing Torvald puts me at ease and I sink right back in.