The tunnel winds ever onward. Not in a straight line but in some sort of spaghetti ball pattern that I assume made sense to somebody at some point in time.

No idea who though.

I push as fast as I can and Eeyore doesn’t complain, just apologizes about his lack of speed, short donkey legs, etc. Importantly, at least in my mind, the path is still slanting somewhat up so I feel like we are heading back in the right direction vertically at least.

We must have been at the very bottom of the mountain.

The tunnel smells old, and dank. Insects scutter about and I even see a few rodenty things as well as a ball of fur that looks like an evil tribble from one of those old Star Trek shows.

Wonder if it replicates as fast as tribbles do.

Either way, the whole area feels old and forgotten. Not just recently conquered, or corrupted by orcs, but old, like I’ve stumbled into a long-forgotten corner on an ancient house atop a secluded hill.

Let’s hope it’s not haunted.

“Have you ever been in a place like this before, Eeyore?”

The donkey grumbles. “No, can’t say that I have.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Me either, but then again, I don’t like most things. Except fields. I like tall, grassy fields.”

“Weren’t you born in the desert?” I ask.

“Unfortunately, yes. But that’s not where I want to be. Or who I want to be with.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t like the dwarves, eh?”

“The dwarves always want something. They are always striving, searching, pursuing.” Eeyore sighs. “They can never just sit. Never just leave things be.”

We plod along together and I look over to my erstwhile friend. Eeyore always looks so tired, so run down, but he never stops, doesn’t slow in the face of his grumbling. Just keeps pushing on.

“Eeyore,” I ask carefully. “Are all donkeys like…you.”

The donkey looks up a bit. “No, the others complain about me. They say I’m too chipper, too optimistic about life.”

Woe

“Eeyore,” I say as gently as possible, “don't take this the wrong way but I think that might be too much for me to handle.”

“Oh I don’t blame you,” says Eeyore. “It’s too much for me sometimes. I think that’s why donkeys are longer. If we all stayed together all the time everyone would just collapse out extreme depression.”

I laugh at that and even Eeyore grins a little. Nothing like a little gallows humor - donkey style.

We continue on the path and after a particularly long twist my light hits upon something strange. There are markings on the wall here. Not natural erosion or even chips from tools but something looking like old paint.

“Wait just a minute,” I say to the donkey. “I want to have a look at this.”

“Ok,” says Eeyore. “Don’t take too long though. Gotta get back to our friends and all.”

The paintings are fuzzy, and I can’t make out all the patterns but I definitely see goblins, or at least I think they are goblins. Little green figures prancing about. But there are also big figures. Far larger than the green ones.

Must be the orcs.

At first I assume that he paintings is a recording of some conflict long ago.

The more things change, the more they stay the same - as they say.

I don’t see the battle though. There’s nothing on the wall do indicate a fight. No weapons, no armor, no…magic.

“Strange, don’t you think?”

I jump a little despite myself, even though I’m so used to the spirit’s sudden entrances.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“This looks like orcs and goblins together,” says the spirit. “But now they’re killing each other and the goblin king said it’s always been that way, didn’t he? Or do I misremember?”

I shoot her a quick gland and sure enough my seductive spirit is grinning at me.

“You know,” I say, “for someone who is always bragging about how helpful she is, you sure do like playing coy.”

She laughs, and there’s something different about it, something more natural, maybe even a little…genuine.

“Ok,” she says eventually. “I will grant you there is some truth in that. So in honor of your request,” she does a little curtsey, “I will be a little more candid.”

The spirit leans in close against my ear. “The goblins and orcs used to be friends.”

I squint at her, suspiciously.

“Don’t look at me like that. I warned you there was more going on here than the hypocritical goblin king was letting on. It’s always the pious ones you can’t trust. Always.”

I shake my head, still not convinced. “I don’t understand. Why lie about something like that?”

The demon shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know, if you really needed the help on the super warrior would you really bother with historical ambiguities?”

I say nothing and look back to the wall.

It does seem like they’re friendly.

“Well, regardless,” I say eventually. “It doesn’t change my mission.”

The demon raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it? Aren’t you at least a little interested in the orc’s side now? Are you not feeling a little guilty about killing so many now? I mean I would, but then I’ve always been rather sensitive about death.”

I scoff.

What a joke that is.

“We’ll see,” I say and head back to Eeyore.

“See everything you need to?” asks the donkey. “You seemed to take a while.” The donkey pauses. “Maybe said some things.”

I freeze for a minute and look at those big donkey ears.

“I didn’t hear everything, sire. And I‘m pretty forgetful. But if you don’t trust me with something it may be best to speak more quietly next time.”

I sigh. “You know I trust you, Eeyore. It’s just that some things are…complicated.”

“I understand,” says Eeyore, but he still looks droopy.

What can I say? I talk to spiritual beings sometimes? What would he say to that? What would he think? Arrggghhh.

So I say and nothing, and just continue on my way,

Some things never change it seems.

As we move further along we start crossing other tunnels and I get little nudges on my shoulder indicating whether to turn, stay straight, or what have you. Soon the air becomes less stale and the ground starts to show wear. Nothing recent but it’s clear these new spaces have seen activity, even conflict in some cases.

I start to pick-up the pace, sure that I am closer now, back to the main tunnels where the fighting must be happening.

But then I see it.

Off to my ride, down a long path, there it is: the tower of Magi.

It’s majestic. Carved in the wall in a giant cavern like it’s a sculpture made by Miachaelangelo himself. It’s more of an imprint than a building. A reminder, or a memory, or what used to be here, of the goblins who used to wield magi before the great war.

It’s so close to me. I could pause right now and go in. Just for a moment. There could be something inside that could help my friends.

“What do you think?” I ask Eeyore. “Should we visit the tower now, or continue along our way?”

The donkey looks at me, and back to the tower. “Is it the best way to help the goblins?”

I should have guessed. Always thinking about the status of others. Never himself.

Urgh.

I wish there was someone here. Someone who could guide me.

But there is. If I want it. She’s helped me this far.

But relying on a former demon for such a momentous decision. She doesn’t give a damn about the goblins. Or doesn’t seem to anyway. She’d probably just support whatever increased her own power, or maybe mine, but definitely not the goblins.

There’s a tap on my shoulder, whisper in my ear. “Better get moving, sweetheart. There’s a battle to win don’t you know?”

Then it strikes me: she doesn't want me to go to the tower.

That’s unexpected.

I take a step away from my donkey.

Sorry Eeyore.

“I could go to the tower,” I whisper.

She pops into view. “But what about your friends?”

“Since when you ever cared about them?”

She laughs. “I don’t, not really anyway. But I care about you darling, and you care about them.”

“So going back right now is the best way to help my friends?”

She shrugs, and grins. “I dunno.”

I throw-up my arms. The donkey must think I’ve cracked. “What? What do you mean you don’t know?”

She nestles close to me. “Ooh, look at you getting reliant on little old me. I like it. You want me to tell you what to do, fine by me. I just don’t want any mean accusations from my dearest if all doesn’t go according to plan. I’m not an oracle after all. I don’t see the future.”

Holy crap. She’s right. I am suddenly reliant. Even after like five minutes

So in a snap I make-up my mind myself. Without the help of any spirit, friendly or otherwise.