Disclaimer 1: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC. The 10th Kingdom copyright Babelsberg International Filmproduktion GmbH & Co. Beitriebs KG and Hallmark Entertainment Distribution, LLC. No money's being made through this story. Simply written out of the love for the two series.

Disclaimer 2: I have taken great pains not to reproduce any of the narrative from The 10th Kingdom novelization by Kathryn Wesley. The narrative (i.e. the words) of this story are mine with the exception that some of dialogue has been retained from The 10th Kingdom for the sake of story clarity.

CHAPTER 10
PURSUIT

Hyde had never climbed a beanstalk in his life. Hell, he hadn't climbed a tree since he was fifteen. But Donna and Jackie couldn't run anymore, and his own legs were hurting. They needed a break. Fortunately, the sides of the beanstalk were knobby and supplied plenty of hand- and footholds, and Donna thought it was a cool idea. The only obstacle they had in getting up there was Jackie.

They clambered up about thirty feet, with Jackie complaining the whole time. She refused to take off her damn heels, so he and Donna had to push, haul, and drag her ass up. There was one good thing about her complaints, though: none of them were about the Troll King's shoes. Hyde was still carrying them in the knapsack, but whatever hold they had on her seemed to have weakened.

A peal of thunder ripped through the dark sky, but he kept his focus below. A light flickered by a beanstalk farther away—bingo. The Trolls were lurking in the woods. The first light was joined by several others, and a racket of barks and shouts ricocheted through the trees.

"This way! The dogs are on the scent! They're very close now."

The Troll King emerged from a cluster of bushes with a pack of Dobermans. The dogs were leading a troop of armored Trolls in the hunt. Hyde's body tensed. For once, the people out to get him weren't making a secret of it. He inhaled a deep, covert breath—the dogs were thirty feet below him—and that was all it took to regain his Zen. He looked over at Donna. She was watching the Trolls intently, and her knuckles were white from clutching the knobby sides of the beanstalk. Jackie had her face buried in Donna's hair.

"They can smell 'em!" the Troll King said. "Don't let them escape again."

"No, Dad." His three dumbass kids were picking up the rear.

Seconds later, the dogs brought the Trolls straight to the beanstalk—and then straight past it. Hyde smirked. The dogs were as dumb as the Trolls. The barking faded as they went deeper into the forest, but the Troll King's kids lagged behind.

"Blabberwort, you got any magic mushrooms?" Burly said.

Hyde angled his head so he could get a better view. This had just gotten interesting.

"No," Blabberwort said. She had to be the third ugliest chick he had ever seen, the first being his aunt Phyllis. "But I've got some Dwarf moss, and it'll really blow your head off. Look at this." She pulled a woody brown clump out of her leather armor. "Last time I took it, I saw Fairies for three days."

"Nicey-nice," Burly said. "Roll us a giant. This may be a long night."

"You got it." Blabberwort tore a fat leaf off the beanstalk and rolled the Dwarf moss in it.

Hyde couldn't believe it. They were they gonna have a circle right under him. He climbed down a foot but found he couldn't go any lower. Donna was holding him back by his jacket collar.

"What do you think you're doing?" she said.

"Getting some of that Dwarf moss."

"Do you really think now is the time to be thinking about a circle?"

"Donna, we're stuck on a beanstalk, we got freakin' Trolls trying to kill us, I've had to be around Jackie all damn day—now is exactly the time for a circle."

"Bluebell! Burly! Blabberwort!" the Troll King called through the forest. "Where are you?"

Donna lowered herself down and got in Hyde's face. "Hey! My stupid boyfriend's probably stuck in that prison. Once we've gotten him safe with Kelso and Fez, then you can think about joining those Trolls."

"Whatever," he said, but Donna was right. He wasn't actually going to do anything. And the Troll kids were gone anyway. They'd rolled up and rolled out.

"Hey, Steven," Jackie had climbed next to him, "do you think I should put them on again?"

"What?"

"The shoes have got to be fully charged by now." Jackie caressed one of the knapsack straps on his shoulder.

"Man," he moved higher on the beanstalk, "you're worse than Fez when he's near a boob."

"But, Steven..."

He didn't have to see her to know she was pouting. That pout had worked its sorcery on him too many times, but he was immune to it now. She wasn't getting those shoes back from him... or anything else.

The Prison Governor paced his office while two of his wardens stood by silently. Fez was keeping quiet, too. A rope still leashed him to the Governor's desk, and his stomach was still starving.

"I've got keys going missing," the Governor said. "I've got Trolls and wolves and Queens missing. What in the fairying forest has happened to basic security in this prison?"

"Sir," one of the wardens said, "while we were searching the prison, we found that the door to the cellars was unlocked at the time of the Queen's breakout."

Cellar? Fez perked up his ears.

"It is possible she escaped that way," the warden said.

The Governor did not seem pleased. "What's down there?" He snapped his fingers at the warden who hadn't spoken yet. "You."

"It's just some old junk, sir," the second warden said. "It's been there for hundreds of years before this place was a prison."

"Take the work detail off the laundry room. Have them clear out the whole place, top to bottom." The Governor nodded at the door. "Now get out."

The wardens hurried out of his office. The Governor sneered before walking into his private room.

The mirror back to Point Place was part of that junk. Fez padded over to the desk and stood on his hind legs. The work detail sheet was sitting on the desk. He grasped a pencil with his jaws and scribbled two names below Dicey the Dwarf's: "Michael Kelso" and "Eric Forman".

Eric had never been part of a chain gang before. It wasn't anything he'd ever aspired to, but he and Kelso were shackled to a long line of inmates. Wardens had marched them down to the cellar, and he immediately recognized the mirror in a pile of junk.

"All right. Now, pay attention!" the Governor said. "Everything here has to be cleared out. So form a human chain, and chuck everything into that boat moored there." He pointed outside through a stone archway, and across a surprisingly green lawn was a river.

Eric didn't need the wardens to drag him to the river. He was happy to be out in the daylight, away from the darkness of the prison and the smells, even though he was chained to more than a dozen inmates. The end of the line stretched way back into the cellar, and the front of it—Eric—stood too many feet apart from the boat for his liking.

"Uh, excuse me?" Eric said.

"What?" the Governor said.

"Well, sir, we're kind of far away from the boat. Some of this stuff isn't—" Eric swallowed. Man, that guy reminded him of Red. "It's fragile. Aren't we in danger of breaking it?"

The Governor's perpetual scowl deepened. "What do you think this is, Forman, an Elves underwear party? Look, this is scrap. Now do as you're told."

Eric pointed back toward the cellar. "Um..." Junk was already being passed up the line.

"And shut it!"

The Governor walked away, and Kelso handed Eric a dirt-encrusted vase. Sunlight and the fresh air had done nothing to erase the sullen expression on his friend's face. It had been there since last night.

"Man," Kelso said, "my back is so itchy,. Being whipped by beanstalks sucks."

So did being punched in the face by a meat-fisted convict and having teeth ripped out by a lunatic dentist. If nothing else, the pain had made a convincing argument that Eric was, indeed, trapped in another world.

"Listen, Kelso, I—"

"Forman!" the Governor shouted.

Eric hurled the vase, and it shattered on top of the boat's rusty anchor. "Oh, no..."

He gazed down the line. The mirror hadn't been picked up yet, but what the hell was he going to do when he had to toss it? He reached for the next item of junk, and a porcelain dish flew past his nose.

"Kelso!"

The dish crashed into the river.

"Sorry. Jackie never let me do that with her dad's plates," Kelso said.

Eric was temped to whack him on his tender back. Now he had another thing to worry about. Not only did he have to get that mirror onto the boat intact, he'd have to get it out of Kelso's destructive hands first.

The gloomy, disgusting beanstalk forest had eventually given way to morning-lit woods. Jackie was drowsy, and she was hungry, and all she needed to clear her head were those shoes. But stupid Steven had made sure to keep Donna between him and her all night as they'd traveled. The three of them were in a copse of trees near the river. They'd made it. The Snow White Memorial Prison was just across the water, but Jackie's attention drifted to the knapsack on Steven's back.

She shook her head and felt the urge to kick her own shin She was acting like such a fool.

"I hope they're okay," Donna said. "They can take care of themselves, right? They can stay out of trouble for one day—can't they?"

"Forman, Kelso, and Fez?" Hyde said.

Donna went pale. "Oh, God. We have to help them."

Eric's shoulders hurt, and his arms were tired. He'd pitched everything from tin pots, splintered chests, and boxes of rusty nails into the boat. But not the mirror, and the cellar was almost empty.

Kelso handed him a platter of copper dishware, and Eric threw it onto the boat. A cracked glass pitcher. Onto the the boat. He scanned the line. A plate of brass cups was next, followed by a cast-iron watering can, a wooden bucket, and then...

The mirror. Four people away. Eric tossed the other junk, one-by-one, onto the boat but kept his eye on the mirror the whole time. Finally, a Troll passed it to Kelso, and Kelso turned it so the glass was facing him.

"Mirror, on. Mirror, on," he whispered. "Mirror, on!"

"Kelso, let me try," Eric said. To his relief, Kelso gave him the mirror without incident. "Come on, my shiny dove." His voice was as gentle as a flower's. "Turn on for Eric. Just turn on. On... on!"

"Forman," the Governor stepped toward him, "what in the fairying forest do you think you're doing?"

Eric slapped the mirror's frame as if it were a TV set on the fritz. "The mirror, it's—it's not working." He examined the glass. There had to be a way to make it go on.

"Listen, Forman, you little prison princess, throw that mirror on that boat. Now!"

"Uh..." Eric hugged the mirror against his body and looked at the boat. It was so far away and filled with so many rough, mirror-breaking edges. What would his mom say to do?

Oh, honey. Just tell the nice, angry man the truth. I'm sure he'll understand. Hahahahaha.

Eric turned back to the Governor and spoke sincerely: "No, I can't. I'm afraid it'll break."

The Governor's scowl disappeared. If he were anything like Red, that was a really, really, bad sign.

"As you have refused to obey my instructions," his tone was far quieter than usual—another bad sign, "I am going to push you into the river. As you are connected by leg irons to each of your comrades, they will also, sadly, drown."

Inmates all down the line stared at Eric menacingly. They'd all kill him before the water did.

"Just do it, Eric," Kelso said."I don't wanna drown."

"Okay, okay," Eric picked up the mirror and glimpsed at the boat again. Too much broken crap. No safe place to throw. This wasn't going to be pretty. What would his dad say?

You better not break it, dumbass!

Eric held his breath—Use the Force, Eric, he told himself—and hurled the mirror with everything he had. It landed with a crash and a cloud of dust.

But it wasn't broken.

"All right!" He hadn't felt this good since... well, since before he left for Africa.

"Nice!" Kelso said. He clapped Eric on the shoulder, and Eric patted him on the back. "Ow! Watch it."

"Oh, sorry." But Eric was so happy, he did it again.

"OW!"

"That was for Hyde," Eric said.

Kelso smiled. "Good burn—literally. My back's burning. I hate beanstalks."

In spite of their fatigue, Jackie, Steven, and Donna had crossed the river on a wooden bridge. They were huddled behind a boulder in the shadow of the prison, but Jackie's gaze was transfixed by the shoes. They sparkled under Steven's arm while he looked toward the prison gate.

"You two wait here," he said. "I'll put these magic suckers on and go back inside the prison."

"I don't think so." Jackie grasped the heels of the shoes. "You'll never come back. You just want them for yourself."

He pulled the shoes away from her. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!" Jackie managed to yank one from him.

He snatched it back. "Yeah, fine." He gave the shoes to Donna and said, "You wear 'em. I'll hold onto you. And, Jackie, you... hold onto Donna."

"Why me?" Donna said.

"'Cause if we're touching you, we'll all be invisible."

"That's not what I meant. I—"

"No!" Jackie tore the shoes from Donna's hands. "I will wear them. And you can hold onto me." She sat on the boulder and covered her own shoes with the magic ones.

Donna held onto Jackie's shoulder. "You really are addicted to those things, you know."

They both started to vanish, and the whirling, happy sensation returned. Steven grabbed Donna's hand before it disappeared, and then he also vanished. Donna's hand.

Damn. Jackie really had to stop. The shoes had already made her disappear. Maybe if she wore them long enough, her feelings would disappear, too.

The wardens shoved Eric and Kelso back into their cell, and Eric's optimism evaporated as soon as the door banged shut. The mirror was in one piece, but who knew what shape Donna was in—or Fez, for that matter? Too many obstacles stood in their way. Too many.

"Curses!" That was Acorn's voice.

Eric spun around. Acorn and Clayface were standing in front of the wall by Fez's portrait, only Fez's portrait lay on the floor. The stone behind its proper place had been hollowed out.

Hollowed out?

"Now we'll have to kill them," Clayface said, and Acorn nodded.

"A tunnel?" Kelso flailed his arms. "A tunnel!" His voice echoed through the hole.

"Shh!" Acorn flailed his own arms, and Eric and Kelso rushed up to him.

"We've been digging for thirty-one years," Clayface said.

Eric clasped his hands together. "Please take us with you. Please!"

"Listen, you can trust us," Kelso said. "I swear—dude! I just saw Escape From Alcatraz in the theater.I can totally pull of Eastwood. I know how to do this!"

Acorn leaned in close to Clayface and said, "Best to suffocate them, I think."

"No," Clayface said. "I trust them."

Clayface took something white out of his shirt and put it into Kelso's hand. It was the bar of soap he'd shown them a day before, but it had been carved into a decent-looking sculpture. Eric was impressed. He really did have talent.

"Thank you," Kelso said. He sounded like he meant it. "I'd give you Eric's I.D. bracelet, but he already gave it to the Tooth Fairy."

Clayface nodded as if he understood. Then, one after the other, they all ducked into the tunnel. Dust fell on them as they went, but Eric didn't care as long as the walls didn't collapse—and he really hoped the walls wouldn't collapse. Donna was out there somewhere, and he had to get to her. Whatever it took.

Entering the prison took no effort. They simply followed two wardens inside as they escorted a newly-convicted criminal to his cell. Jackie was using all her control not to laugh, but it was really, really hard. Steven had wrapped his arm around her waist, the most contact they'd had in half-a-year, and it sent as much of a thrill through her body as being invisible did.

They reached the main cell block. Wardens were patrolling the halls, and Jackie slid her hand around Steven's back to pull him closer. It didn't happen. A big goon arm had gotten in her way. He was holding Donna the same way he held her—to make sure they retained the benefit of the magic shoes. Jackie withdrew her hand and frowned. His touch meant nothing.

The first cell door they came to listed Inglow the Elf and Stagger the Troll as the convicts imprisoned behind it. "Ten months for being cheeky'?" Donna read underneath the Elf's name. "What are they going to do with Eric?"

"We gotta find where they bring new prisoners," Steven said.

They went further down the corridor, and Donna commented on another cell. Hearthard the Dwarf was sentenced to three years for puppy slaying, and "The Chopper" had two-hundred years for multiple murder. Jackie shuddered. She really wanted Donna to stop reading doors.

"Puppy slaying?" Donna whispered. "Puppy slaying? What about Fez?" As if in response, a dog barked from somewhere up ahead. "Listen," she said. "Listen, that must be him. That's Fez."

Donna led them to the only door without bars or prisoners' names listed on it. It wasn't locked, and inside was some kind of office—and Fez. Eight bowls of uneaten food were beside him, and a rope tied him to a desk. His nose sniffed at the air. Did he know they were in the room?

The knot on the desk leg started to unravel by itself. Donna. She was the only one besides Jackie who had a free hand.

"What are you doing?" Jackie said. "We can't take him with us. He'll drain all the power in the shoes, and we'll become visible. Steven, tell her."

"Take him," he said, "and grab those keys, too."

Donna lifted a set of keys from the wall and Fez's rope from the desk, and they both faded away. Fez disappeared soon after.

The magic-haze cleared from Jackie's mind, replaced by a cloud of shame. How could she ever think of leaving Fez? Of course they had to take him. She was being so horrible. Those shoes were worse than the wedding dresses she tried on every week at the mall.

"If you can understand me, Fez," Donna said, "bring us to Eric and Kelso."

Fez must have taken the lead because Steven was yanked forward. His arm slipped from Jackie's waist, but she caught his hand before the contact was broken. Silently, invisibly, he closed his fingers around her palm and pulled her along.

They stopped at a cell door.

"This is it. I can hear Fez scratching at it," Donna said.

Jackie stroked the back of Steven's hand with her thumb. She wanted to reach towards his unseeable face, feel his breath on her lips...

His fingers withdrew from her palm and returned to her waist. Their removal shocked her mind into proper thinking. It was all the shoes' doing, their terrible, wonderful influence. She needed to take them off. She needed to go home. Once they found stupid Michael and stupid Eric, she'd go through that mirror and finally forget what she—what the shoes were making her want. She'd forget Steven Hyde for good.

Too bad there wasn't a spell to make her believe that.