Miss Roberts in Wennland
by Emma Redmer
Disclaimer: Rupert Holmes and AMC own the characters. No infringement intended.
Author's Note: Ok, gang, here it is - the long awaited first part of my second WENN spoof! Enjoy! This is set a few hours after "And If I Die Before I Sleep."
Elizabeth Miranda "Betty" Roberts sat in Studio B reading "The Wizard of Oz". It had been several hours since she, Victor, Maple, and Mr. Eldridge had answered the questions about the marathon broadcast that the press had thrown at them. Victor had driven ailing Maple to her apartment and Gertie and Mr. Eldridge had long since gone home. The other staff members had never stirred and were presumably still slumbering in Studio A. The normally perky writer grew increasingly weary as she recited the famous fantasy novel on the air. She had found the dog-eared book under Eugenia's organ and figured that since she had no scripts, she'd announce a special "Book at Bedtime", but now she just wanted sleep. She drifted off to dreamland in the middle of Chapter Five.
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Betty was awakened by the sound of someone crying. There were birds chirping the backround, and what sounded like two squirrels fighting over a particularly large cache of acorns. *Wait a minute!* The scent of mold and wildflowers and the rustle of leaves weren't normally found in downtown Pittsburgh. There was no explanation for the forest sounds and smells other than...
She shot up like a missile in a war film. She was sprawled on a bed of moss in a large wood, but she wasn't sure how she had gotten there. The crying was coming from somewhere off to her left. Betty stiffly rose to her feet and followed the loud sobs puncuated by an occasional sneeze. She tripped over rotten logs and cursed mildly when her nylon stockings snagged on a thorny bush. It was cool and dim in the forest. There was nothing but green and brown for miles in all directions. She found the source of the anguished tears in a clearing. A young woman sat on a fallen log, her head in her hands. She wore a faded peasant-style dress with a tight black bodice and a full, black-and-white striped skirt. A much-repaired calico apron encircled her waist. Her brilliant red hair was bound back with a ribbon of the same tattered calico. A soaking wet pink handkerchief lay limply in her lap. Her feet were bare. She looked up and let out a frightened gasp.
"Wh...who are you, Miss?" she asked, gazing around her in consternation. "Are you one of his people?" her voice had a distinct and familiar Brooklyn accent. The poor woman sneezed miserably. > Betty shook her head no and sat down next to the woman.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I heard someone crying, and I wondered who it was and what had made them sob like that."
"I'm sorry, but I've never seen anyone 'round here dressed like you, Miss. Are you a fine lady from some far-off country?" She gestured at Betty's blouse, long skirt, and green vest.
Betty laughed. "I'm Betty Roberts, and I'm no fine lady, just a scriptwriter from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. These clothes are perfectly normal where I come from." She sighed. "The trouble is, I don't know where I am now or how I can get back to Pittsburgh. This is definatly not Pittsburgh."
The woman shook her head. "I don't know where Pittsburgh is, but my employers, King Thomas and Queen Gerta, might. He has the royal family under a sleeping spell, and I can't do magic, so I can't break the spell. I'm lookin' for the Sorceress Hilaria and her knight Sir Jeffrey Singer, but I got lost in the forest." She smiled for the first time since Betty had met her. "I'm Carabelle, the Queen's personal maid. It's nice to meet 'cha, Mistress Roberts."
A huge, majestic bald eagle suddenly swooped out of the sky. Betty ducked, but Carabelle remained perfectly calm. The enourmous wild fowl settled on Carabelle's shoulder. She ruffled the creature's feathers and cooed at it as if it were a pet dove.
The eagle was awfuly familiar. So was Carabelle, come to think of it. It had a pair of cool, mahogany-brown eyes. It's feathers were light brown, except for the neck and head, which were pure white. Nothing prepared her for what happened when the bird opened it's sharp yellow beak.
"Carabelle," it said in a dignified (and extremely familiar) voice, "I'm quite elated that I encountered you! I have located Sorceress Hilaria and Sir Jeffrey Singer's estate, Gingerside Manor. It's in the center of the woodland."
Betty gasped. "He..it..the eagle can talk!"
The eagle seemed to notice her for the first time. "Oh, Sir Vic, this is Mistress Betty Roberts, of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She needs to find her way home." Carabelle explained. He nodded in Betty's general direction. "Betty, this is Sir Victor Comstock, the King and Queen's head knight and most trusted counselor."She was grinning now. "He's also my sweetheart. He's the cutest fella in the kingdom when he's human and the smartest no matta what he is." The feathers around Sir Victor's beak actually appeared to turn crimson for a moment.
Betty stood up, scratching her head. She faced Sir Comstock and Carabelle, who were still sitting on the log. "Who is this terrible he that the two of you are so scared of, and why would he put your monarchs to sleep?"
"He is the Warlock Abernathy." Sir Comstock began. "He and his witch assistant appeared innocuous at first. They maintained that they were merely flavoring the coffee that the inhabitants of the castle were intensly fond of. They had actually been employed by the contiguous Kingdom of Wtm to appropriate the Kingdom of Wenn, which we are on the fringes of, from the good King Thomas and Queen Gerta."
Carabelle continued his story. "They slipped a sleeping potion, Valarium, into the coffee and stole the caffeine so that no one would stay awake. I was sick and wasn't 'pose to drink coffee and Sir Victor was away on a mission, so we didn't conk out like everyone else."
"I returned to Wenn to find its sovereigns slumbering on their thrones, their only offspring the Prince scarely wakeful, and Abernathy and his associate Rupkin gloating triumphantly. The entire royal family and all of the servants but Carabelle had partaken of the bewitched brew," the enchanted knight sadly admitted. "Prince Scot had percieved Warlock Abernathy's machination, but his disclosure came too late to liberate him or his parents. He collasped in my arms after succumbing to the charmed coffee. All of the remonstrance and jarring in the world could not rouse their majesties or their son."
"Yeah," finished Carabelle, "I couldn't wake them up either. That's when Abernathy decided that Sir Vic looked better in feathers. He and Witch Rupkin didn't see me. I hid behind one of those big rugs hanging on the wall of the throne room."
"You mean to say that you concealed yourself behind a tapestry," corrected Sir Victor.
"Whaddeva." shrugged Carabelle.
That was when a woman crashed her way into the clearing. Betty jumped, Carabelle leaped off the log, and Sir Comstock fluttered to a branch that was out of the woman's way. *Could this be the Sorceress Hilaria?* Betty wondered. She was rather surprised. Most female sorcerers in books tended to be ancient hags. Hilaria might have been very beautiful, had her full purple satin gown not been rent with rips and holes, her lovely face not been screwed up in anger, and bits of leaves and twigs not been tangled in her chestnut hair. She wore a silver medallion around her neck.
Carabelle recovered first. "Please, Sorceress Hilaria, I beg, beseech, and besmirch you, help! The royal family has been put to sleep by a warlock who wants to take the land of Wenn and turn it over to the King of Wtm! I'm Mistress Carabelle, the lady in the long skirt is Mistress Betty Roberts, and the bald eagle is Sir Victor Comstock."
"You think you have problems?" snapped the raging sorceress. "A trollop of a Czechoslovakian witch has lured Sir Jeffrey Singer, the knight who swore a solemn vow to love, honor, cherish, and obey me, away with a love spell! I must find him and restore him to his senses!"
"Do you not deem it more significant to restore the King and Queen to their thrones first?" Sir Victor quietly insisted.
"Not at the expense of my love life!" growled Hilaria.
Betty decided to step in before the arguement could go any further. "I think I have a solution. Sorceress Hilaria, if we help you to free Sir Jeffrey, will you help Carabelle rescue the royal family, turn Sir Victor back into a human, and find a way to send me home to Pittsburgh?"
"Only the magcian who cast the incantation can reverse what was done to Sir Victor." Hilaria explained. "It is within my power to help Mistress Carabelle defeat the warlock and find a way to send you back to Pittsburgh, wherever that may be, Mistress Roberts. My darling Jeff comes first, however. Are we all agreed on this?"
The other three nodded. Betty didn't see how they had much choice. None of them could perform magic. "Agreed."
Sorceress Hilaria lead the others through the forest to her home. The middle of the woods were no different from the fringes of it. It was all trees and underbrush and thorny bushes. Betty discarded her stockings when a particuarly large bush rendered a gaping hole in the right ankle. She was starting to look like Hilaria. Sir Victor soared overhead, smartly avoiding the obstacles of the forest floor. Carabelle sniffled and sneezed. She hadn't fully recovered from the illness that had saved her from Warlock Abernathy's sleeping spell.
The estate that loomed before them was a charming old-fashioned manor house, the kind you might find in the English country-side. It was also entirely constructed of gingerbread, candy, and icing, with a gleaming toffee roof and spun-sugar windows. Betty's stomache growled at the sight of it. "We had some kids try to eat the roof once when it was cotton candy." Hilaria mentioned. "So we decided on something stronger."
A plump, sweet-faced woman stood by a chocolate well, carrying a rough dark-chocolate bucket. She was singing a little tune. She wore a peasant dress not unlike Carabelle's, but the bodice wasn't quite as tight and the skirt was a cheery floral pattern. A little brown and green frog with unusually long legs squatted on the well. He watched the small woman and stared mournfuly at the manor.
Hilaria greeted the woman kindly. "Eugie, darling, have you gathered the chocolate for my spell?"
"Oh, Miss Hilaria, this isn't for your spell. Lady Pavla wants a cup of hot chocolate right away and refuses to lift a hand to do it herself." Eugie told her employer. "She said she planned to take over as mistress of Gingerside Manor."
Hilaria became grim again. Carabelle and Betty braced themselves for another explosion of temper. "So," the angry sorceress hissed, "she's treating my servant like..her servant! She wants in on my home and my Jeffrey! Well, we'll see about that!" Hilaria stomped into the gingerbread manor house before anyone could stop her. The frog leaped off of the well. Betty wasn't too surprised when she heard the frog desperately croak Hilaria's name.
They followed the frog indoors, Eugie fretting all the while. "Oh dear! I didn't think Miss Hilaria would take this so badly."
A beautiful young woman sat in a tremendous room dining on what looked like some kind of roast bird. She, too, wore a medallion, but it was bronze rather than silver. Her gown was fine satin and her fingers dripped with precious stones and metals. A pot boiled merrily on a gingerbread-brick fireplace. Sir Victor flew into an open window just as Hilaria burst into the room, followed by the other three ladies and the frog.
"You first-class witch!" Hilaria shrieked. "Where's my Jeffrey? I thought you had him fawning all over you like some over-grown schoolboy!"
"I grew tired of the schoolboy." Lady Pavla said simply. Her foreign accent was familiar. "I also grow tired of playing games. I want you silver medallion. I thought that Sir Jeffrey had it, but he lied to save his hide and yours."
Hilaria was perplexed. "Jeff...lied to save me?"
"I thought of turning you into something more useful, like a cat or a snake. To keep this from happening, he let me turn him into something." Lady Pavla explained calmly.
Hilaria pointed her medallion at the lady. "I'm going to roast youvery slowly and very painfully over that open fire and smother you in garlic and onions until you resemble that poultry you're eating if you don't tell me what you turned my Jeffrey into!"
Lady Pavla grabbed at Hilaria's medallion in utter desperation. Sir Victor bit the lady's arm as hard as he could. She let go of Hilaria and turned to the bald eagle, clutching her wounded arm. She snatched a hard candy poker from the fireplace with her good arm and swung it at the eagle, but Sir Victor flew to the top of the high toffee celing. Betty held the angry enchantress by her arms. Carabelle took the poker away and it back where it belonged.
"Eugie, go get some stout rope. Sir Victor, bring a chair over here."ordered Sorceress Hilaria. Sir Victor dragged the peppermint candy chair that Lady Pavla had been sitting in over with his clawed feet. Betty shoved the evil enchantress into the chair. Eugie returned with licorice rope and Carabelle tied the lady to her seat. Hilaria removed the bronze metal from around Pavla's neck and held it over the boiling pot.
"Tell me what you did to my knight, or your source of power will be little more than a melted bronze paperweight!" threatened Sorceress Hilaria.
"I will if you let me go!" promised Lady Pavla.
"You'll let us know by postcard from the other side of the kingdom!"shouted Betty, who couldn't help thinking that she'd said something like that a few weeks ago.
"Hilaria, please, my explaination holds water!" squeaked the tiny frog. "Your medallion is more powerful than Pavla's. She tried to use me to get to you. There was never anything between us. Her love charm didn't work. She transformed me into an amphibian when I told her that I wouldn't permit her to touch you." the frog told them. "There's only one way to break my enchantment, and you know that way very well, Hilaria."
Hilaria's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Surely you don't expect me to kiss a frog?"
The little creature sighed. "I'm not merely a frog. Your darling Jeffrey is in this reptile skin!"
"Oh, all right, if you insist." grumbled Hilaria. She puckered up her lips and hesitantly kissed the frog. When she pulled her lips away, she was staring at a tall, handsome young man. He wore a simple brown and green tunic, trousers, and chain mail. A slender sword hung by his side. His touseled brown curls framed a wide smile. Hilaria looked surprised, to say the least.
"Pumpkin, it is you!" She threw her arms around him, knocking him to the candy-studded floor. "My dear Jeff, I thought I'd never see you again."
"Hilaria, darling, I love you too, but could you give me some air?" Hilaria let Sir Jeff go and he panted a bit while the others decided Pavla's fate.
"Whadda we go nna do with Pablo?" asked Carabelle.
"It's Pavla. As in the Pavlova the dancer." corrected the indignant lady, but no one listened to her.
Hilaria grinned wickedly. "Let me handle this." She held her medallionan murmured a few strange words. The beautiful, evil Lady Pavla screamed as she vanished into thin air.
Everyone looked around in confusion. "Where did she go to?" asked Betty.
"Tokyo. She now has a job running a one-wheel rickshaw there. She won't be able to cause us any more trouble." Hilaria held up the bronze pendant, a satisfied look on her face. "I kept her medallion, and she can't return without it." She handed the medallion to Betty. "There's a charm to this medallion, but I'm not sure what it is exactly. Maybe you can figure it out, Mistress Roberts. You seem like a bright girl." She winked at Betty.
The small group explained the king and queen's quandary to Sir Jeffrey as they walked outside. He listened intently, then added, "I'll go with you. I'm an expert swordsman. Besides, I never want to leave Hilaria's side again!"
"The most common road utilized to approach Wenn Castle is the Rainbow Trail." said Sir Victor. "Follow me."
The eagle remained low to the ground this time, so it was fairly easy to find him. That didn't make the trail any easier, especially for bare-legged Betty and bare-foot Carabelle. They finally found the edge of the forest after walking for what seemed like hours. Betty was happy to emerge from the dim woodlands into the warm, inviting sunlight.
The Rainbow Trail was just that, a road painted in every color imaginable, from brick red to royal purple. Sir Victor soared overhead,probably happy to get out to the open sky, where he could streach his wings. Hilaria and Sir Jeffrey held hands and chatted, laughing as they walked. Betty caught up with Carabelle, who was still snuffling and rubbing her nose with her pink hanky. Betty measured her strides with that of the taller woman. She wanted to know what they were getting into, and learn more about the people they were going to rescue.
"Carabelle, could you tell me about the royal family?" Betty asked.
"Sure." the red-headed maid nodded. "Well, King Thomas and Queen Gertahave ruled the Kingdom of Wenn for more than forty years. They're good folks. They know their ruling, ya know? Everyone adores 'em. Their son, well, he's a hunk. Smart, too, and charming and gentleman-like. He's also a bit of a con man. He can talk anyone into doing anything. His name is Scot, with just one t."
Betty smiled. Prince Scot sounded mighty familiar to her. "No one will break that code."
Carabelle went on. "Prince Scot is King Thomas and Queen Gerta's only kid, and they kinda spoil him. He gets away with a lot of stuff. Heonce hired a couple of new servants and told them that their pay would be the experience they'd get working in the castle. There was another time when he told everyone that he was with the kingdom's secretpolice! He even tried getting into local politics once. The royal folks want him to get hitched so he'll have an heir to the kingdom, but he says he's still lookin' for the right dame."
It wasn't long before an enormous castle loomed overhead. It sat on hill at the end of the Rainbow Trail. It looked like something from one of Betty's childhood picture books, all turrets and towers. The castle was surrounded by mountains, trees, and a wide moat. The heavy oak drawbridge was closed, and burly sentries with sharp swords and lances guarded the grounds.
Carabelle sneezed. "I know a way to get into the castle without having to tangle with the guards. It's a secret way. Only a few of the servants know about it." She walked off the trail toward the moat. "There's a cave here along the banks of the moat that leads into Wenn Castle.”
Carabelle proved to be correct. The cave went beneath the murky water. It appeared dark and damp.
"I am not walking through there." Hilaria complained. "It's unsanitary and caliginous and who knows what lives underground?"
"Well, then," said Sir Victor, who had made a perfect landing on Carabelle's shoulder, "you can pause here and anticipate Abernathy's sentinels to imprison you in the castle with their majesties."
Hilaria did have one point; it was terribly dark in the cave. Betty couldn't see more than an inch in front of her face. She held the back of Corabelle's dress, and Sir Jeff held her sleeve. The fabric of Carabelle's skirt was rough and worn.
They emerged into light for the second time that day, but the light wasn't as brilliant as the sunshine that had dominated the Rainbow Trail. They entered through a door in the cracked stone wall. Hilaria and Sir Jeff picked up the two lanterns that lit the room. Betty found herself gazing at a small kitchen. A middle aged man with a trim mustache snored over a pot of soup. Carabelle introuduced him as Master Lester, the royal family's loyal chef. He had obviously been asleep for some quite some time. The soup was icy cold.
A little man rushed into the kitchen. He was pale and thin and dressed in slightly soiled brocade and silk. He began gesturing wildly at Carabelle.
"Hey, hey, slow down Foley! I can't understand you when you do that!" exclaimed the exasperated maid. Everyone else looked baffled. "Really?" asked Carabelle in shock. She then remembered their audience. "Oh, everyone, this is Foley, Prince Scot's steward. A rotten sorcerer once cast a spell on his tongue so he couldn't talk, and we still can't figure out how to reverse the spell. You never did tell me what you said to make that guy so mad, Foley." The little steward just shrugged.
"Anyway," Carabelle continued, "Abernathy hid Prince Scot in a tower. The royals are still snoozing. Foley drank the coffee, but he didn't drink as much as the king and queen and prince, so he woke up earlier. There's a what on Prince Scot?" Foley gestured a little less broadly. "A crumb? A cross? Oh, a curse!" Her eyes widened. "The warlock put a curse on Prince Scot and the only way to break it is to get his dream girl to kiss him?"
That was when they heard voices in the hall beyond the kitchen. Carabelle opened her mouth to scream, but Foley quickly muffled it with his small hand. Sir Jeff drew his sword and placed himself between the door and Hilaria.
"Quick, everyone withdraw through the portal we entered!" ordered Sir Victor. No one was up for an arguement.
Betty was the last one to start for the cave entrance. The door shut before she could reach it. Her heart plummeted into her stomache. They must think I'm already in there with them! Several rough, strong hands grabbed her from behind and lifted her up over a shoulder as if she were a bag of potatoes. She kicked and pounded and struggled, but to no avail. These men are probably Abernathy's guards.
She had an idea. She closed her eyes and let her body go limp as the men carried her up the steep stairs that most likely led to the main part of the castle. If I remain calm, perhaps they'll take me to the king or queen or someone who can help me get back home.
The soldiers tramped several more flights of stairs before they deposited Betty in something soft and scratchy. She lay there for a few moments while they locked her in the room. She opened her eyes when they left. The men had left her on one of several large piles of straw. She vaguely wondered if she were back in Indiana and half-expected to hear the moo of a cow that needed milking. And old-fashioned spinning wheel stood off to her right. Suddenly a small, fat woman with tiny, chilly eyes entered. Her loose cotton gown and pendant were all black. She somewhat resembled someone that Betty had seen just a few hours before. Someone she hadn't like all that much...
"Who are you, young Sorceress?" she asked in a voice calculated to intimdate Betty.
Betty wasn't easily intimidated. "My name is Betty Roberts, and I'm a radio scriptwriter from Pittsburgh. I was given this medallion a few hours ago. I have no idea how to activate it or how to use it if I could activate it."
"My name is Witch Rupkin. My master, the Warlock Abernathy, wants to know what became of the rest of people in your group. Our men spotted you with two women, a young man, and an eagle on the hill overlooking Wenn Castle. We're especially interested in the whearabouts of the eagle and the red-haired woman."
"I don't know where they went. I left them and came looking for someone to help me get home to Pittsburgh. I was instead carted up here by your men and dumped on the floor like I was yesterday's garbage."
Witch Rupkin pointed to a bright red timepiece on a table alongside of the spinning wheel. "We know that you came here with Sir Victor Comstock and the people he gathered to help him defeat my master. You're one of those people." She brushed past Betty and twisted the alarm mechanisim on the red clock. "The clock is set for exactly and hour from now. If you tell me where your friends are, we will spare your life and make sure that you are returned safely to Pittsburgh."
Betty hesitated. She wanted to go home more than anything, but she couldn't betray Sir Victor and the others. It just wasn't in her blood. "Even if I knew where they were, I would never tell you." she said firmly.
"You have just sealed your doom, Mistress Betty Roberts. You could have gone home to your Pittsburgh, but you refused, so I give you your death sentance instead." hissed the wicked witch. She indicated the clock. "If you fail to make these piles of straw into 24 carat gold within the hour I set, you will die hideously and painfully." She left before Betty could protest.
The room was small, dim, and freezing cold. She gazed out the window at the sunset. It was all gold and blue and heliotrope, blazing over the rolling hills and forests and meadows and thatched roofs. The Kingdom of Wenn was very beautiful, but it wasn't Pittsburgh. Somewhere over the rainbow was Pittsburgh, and that bustiling minor city was home. The station was home, and the cast and crew her strange but loving family. Would she ever again witness one of Victor's schemes or referee an arguement between Jeff and Hilary or hear Scott exclaim "Oh, would you look at the time?" or "Very exciting"?
A sigh from the other end of the tower distracted her from her wistful thoughts. She hadn't noticed that the room was already occupied. She took the one lantern from the wall went to see who her cell mate was.
Her cell mate was snoring lightly on a little bed made of rich, dark wood. The bed had been hidden behind a wide pile of straw. He was very handsome, with long black eyelashes and plump, rosy cheeks. His black-silver hair was topped by a crown of gold, amethysts, and red garnets. A thick cotton coverlet obscured all of his body but his muscular arms and hands, which rested on the top of the coverlet. She was certain that this was Prince Scot, the King and Queen's cursed son. The enchanted prince seemed so peaceful and amiable in his sleep. He certainly didn't look like the conniving rogue that Carabelle had described him to be.
She wasn't certain why she suddenly desired to kiss a man she knew very little about. It might have been some sort of magic that wanted to play matchmaker. Perhaps, if he were awake, he could help her escape the North Tower and maybe even return to Pittsburgh. Though she hesitated, she finally leaned over to kiss the sleeping prince. The bronze medallion glowed eerily. She heard a groan, and a deep, slightly hoarse voice.
"Hey," said Prince Scot as he stirred and opened his wide chocolate-brown eyes, "who are you? You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
Betty could feel herself blush bright red. "Thank you, your highness."
He frowned. "Don't be so formal! You can call me Scot." Something occured to him as he sat upright. He was clothed in a loose white shirt, a red silk vest with gold brading, matching red trousers, and shiny black boots. "How do you know who I am? I've never seen you before. Well, except in my dreams." He smiled. "Have you been listening to the servants gossip? I swear, whatever they said I did, I didn't do it. Ok, I didn't do most of it."
"Sort of." Betty admitted. "My name is Betty Roberts. Queen Gerta's personal maid, Carabelle, told me a little bit about you."
"Hmmmm. Bettybettybetty." murmured the smitten prince, who was staring dreamily at her.
Betty started in shock. Scott Sherwood was the only person who ever called her that. Well, ok, Jeff Singer had called her that once, too, but he'd done it to make Hilary jealous. This was different. She moved away from him to the window.
Scot looked around him. He absent-mindedly scratched his back and let out an enormous yawn. "I don't know how I got up in the North Tower, but I'm willing to bet cash that it was Abernathy's idea." He nodded at the straw. "According to my folks, the last person who came up here was a rather pesky little gnome who claimed that he could turn straw into gold. He could, but he wanted me and Mom's jewels in return for his services. I was just an infant then. He ran out on Mom and Dad when they wouldn't give me or the rocks up. That was at least forty years ago. It's mostly used for storage now."
"We've got to get out of here." Betty stated. "I must get back home to Pittsburgh. I have to finish reading "The Wizard of Oz" on the air and I'm way behind on my scripts. Scott and Victor and the staff would be worried sick if I disappeared without a trace."
Scot was pulling at the door. "It's locked from the inside." he grumbled. "We'll have to go out the window."
Betty peeked out the half-circle. "Are you crazy? That's a drop of at least a hundred feet!" That was when she remembered what Rupkin had demanded of her. Could she actually weave gold from straw? She had to! Her life depended on it. Lady Pavla's medallion hid have magical properties, after all. She'd seen what it had done to Sir Jeffrey Singer. Maybe they could make a rope of the gold and get out of the tower before her hour was over. They certainly didn't lack materials. The piles of straw reached the ceiling.
Scot frowned once more as she sat at the spinning wheel and tried to remember how to work the thing. "What are you doing?" he asked, puzzled. "This is no time to make yarn!"
"I'm planning our escape." she told him." The bronze medallion lit up the moment her fingers touched the wheel. "Bring me some straw. If I don't do this within.." she gave the clock a fast look, "..forty-five minutes, the witch and warlock will find some way to do me in. And if what the witch said is any indication, it won't be a pretty sight."
The puzzled prince obeyed her. The spinning wheel transformed the plain, musty tan straw into a dazziling string of pure gold before their very eyes. He continued to bring her straw until the very last bit had been magicaly twisted into bright metal yarn. Scot tied the threads of yarn together to form one long, shimmering rope. He shook his head in confusion. "How did you do that?" he asked her as he binded the gold rope to a hook embedded in the stone window. "You're not a pesky little gnome!"
"I think it's the medallion." Betty explained. "I turned the wheel, but it made the gold. Or, to be more specific, its magic made the gold. Good thing my great-grandmother taught me how to use a spinning wheel before she died."
The rope that Betty had made was so smooth that she mostly slid down. Scot followed her. They landed alongside the banks of the castle. Betty pulled the rope down from the window and hid it under a thick bramble bush, much to Scot's disappointment. The prince clutched a long, thin sword, not too unlike the ones that Mr. Foley had used during the "When in Rome" marathon broadcast, in hi s hand.
"I came here with Sir Victor Comstock, Mistress Carabelle, the Sorceress Hilaria, and her cavalier Sir Jeffrey. Abernathy transformed Sir Victor into a bald eagle, probably to keep him from telling the truth about his plans." Betty revealed. "But his spell must have been slightly off, because he didn't take away Sir Victor's voice. He and Mistress Carabelle got out of the castle and recruited me, Hilaria, and Sir Jeff to rescue you and your parents."
Scot looked worried. "I overheard Abernathy and Witch Rupkin plotting right after I drank the drugged coffee. They were planning to bump off my folks and turn the Kingdom of Wenn over to their employer, the King of Wtm. He's been after our kingdom for years. It's small and poor compared to his vast country." he whispered. "I tried to warn Sir Victor, but I guess I passed out."
The two snuck past several small knots of chatting guards who paid no attention to them. They walked as quietly as possible down the ornate hall until they reached a massive oak door. Betty opened it a crack and the two peeked in the room beyond.
Hilaria was facing a small man with a gray mustache who sat in one of two huge gold thrones. He was dressed all in black, from his boots to his jet medallion. He had his hands over his ears and an annoyed expression on his face. She was screeching unitellgible words at the top of her lungs.Sir Jeffrey was holding her back and telling her to cool off. The others watched in shock. The tunnel must lead into the throne room, Betty thought. Hilaria's confronting Abernathy with one of her spells.
"I don't know what you intend to do, Sorceress Hilaria, but I would suggest that you take your shouting elsewhere." ordered the man. "You're hurting my ears."
Hilaria stopped screaming and started trembiling. "My spell isn't working." she whispered. "You haven't become a newt yet." Sir Jeffrey went to her side in concern.
"I'm immune to your child's play, Sorceress." snapped the warlock. "Witch Rupkin," he said to the woman who had threatened Betty in the tower, "Call my guards and tell them to remove this rabble. Sir Victor can be skinned and used as pillow stuffing. The Sorceress and her cavalier would make wonderful slaves for the King of Wtm, and the red-haired maid can be tossed in the dungeon with the rest of the degenerates."
"Hey!" squaked Carabelle, "I'm not the one who's stealing the Kingdom of Wenn from King Thomas and Queen Gerta!"
Rupkin moved to round their soldiers up, but Hilaria turned her into a large, round black rock. Sir Victor grabbed at Abernathy's jet medallion with his beak and claws. He scratched and clawed, but Abernathy merely flung him against the wall. Carabelle screamed and knelt by the wounded eagle, cradling him in her arms.
Abernathy faced a tall, flame-haired older woman and an aged, bespecticaled gentleman who must have been Wenn's monarachs. They were awake and had been handcuffed to each other and to the left throne. Queen Gerta was trying to open the handcuff with one of her long nails.
"I want you to march your black magic and your decapitated coffee right out of my castle. Or should you march the castle out of the coffee?" King Thomas mused.
"What did you do to and with our son?" demanded Queen Gerta. "If you've harmed one hair on Scot's precious head..."
Betty sighed. This is absurd. Scot must have been thinking the same thing because he suddenly burst into the throne room, his face livid with anger. He raced in front of Abernathy and pointed his sword straight at him. Abernathy stood to face him.
"I'll give you five minutes to go back to the Kingdom of Des Moines where you belong and tell the King of Wtm that he'll never get this country or I'll tear you limb from limb." growled Prince Scot.
"Scot, my boy, where the hell have you been?" questioned his father.
His mother sighed with relief. "Thank goodness you're all right!"
The Prince's sword, however was flung aside as easily as Sir Victor's tallons had been. "I thought you were dreaming of the love of your life in the North Tower." Abernathy snarled.
"Well, Abernathy," said Scot, "my dream came true." He indicated Betty, who picked up his sword and joined him by his side. "You hid me in the North Tower to make sure that the curse on me was never lifted by anyone, much less my dream girl."
Queen Gerta narrowed her eyes. "I understand now. With Scot in an eternal sleep and Tom and I out of the way, you would be free to sell the Kingdom of Wenn to the King of Wtn."
"That, er, lady," exclaimed King Thomas, pointing at the stone that had once been Witch Rupkin, "told me that she was making a special kind of coffee."
"Yeah," said his wife sarcastically, "A special kind of coffee...packaged in the Kingdom of Des Moines!"
"That's Des Mwon!" corrected Abernathy.
The Prince, Sir Jeff, Foley, and Betty desperately attacked the wicked warlock. He kept pushing the men off of him, but Betty knew what to look for. The chain that held the medallion was very thin and brittle. It wouldn't take long to slice it and get Abernathy's pendant away from him. Betty was careful not to cut Abernathy's neck. She wanted to end his power, not his life. Hilaria used her own magic to free Wenn's rulers from their fetters.
The chain suddenly gave and the medallion went flying. It smashed against the stone wall with a rebounding CRACK!, twice. Black dust and bits of jet landed on the floor. Abernathy let out a shreik of terror and leaped away from the group.
"Young lady, what have you done?" Abernathy wailed. He almost looked as if he were declining before their very eyes. His form was growing more and more shadowy. "You've killed me! You broke all of my spells! I'm fading away to nothing! What a cruel world this is!"
"I...I didn't mean to kill you," stammered Betty, who was shocked at Abernathy's rapidly vaporizing form. "I've never hurt anyone before. I just didn't want you to use your magic to harm innocent people." He let out a moan before fading completely from view.
The bird in Carabelle's arms had metamorphosed into a handsome, slender, elegant man. He hunkered in the corner alongside the beaming maid, who had created a sling for left arm out of her apron. What hair he had on his head was light brown and his eyes were that of the eagle, piercing and yet sad and gentle. He wore slim gray chain mail and trousers. The two were locked in a rather passionate embrace for a sick woman and a man with an injured limb.
The queen was conversing with her husband on the bias..., er, dais where the thrones stood. Scot was shaking his head in confusion. "How could Abernathy just disappear like that?" He asked Hilaria.
"We magic-users aren't much good without our magic. We wither and die if its destroyed. It's what keeps us ticking." she explained. Sir Jeffrey playfuly elbowed her. "Well, it's part of what keeps us ticking." she added with a grin.
The queen and king ascended their thrones and turned to adress their subjects, their son, and Betty, who knew exactly what she wanted to request of them. Everyone bowed respectfuly.
King Thomas spoke first. "Gerta and I can't thank you all enough for saving our kingdom from that no-good Abernathy. We'd especially like to thank the young lady in the funny outfit."
Betty blushed for the second time that day. "It was nothing, your majesties." she whispered modestly.
Scot put his arms around Betty. "She's being too humble. If it wasn't for her, I'd still be snoring in the North Tower." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Dad, Mom, there's somewhere she must go. A place where she's badly needed by people who care about her." He had a hard time getting the last part to come out of his mouth.
"I was told that you might be able to get me home to Pittsburgh." Betty admitted.
Queen Gerta frowned. "Why don't you stay here, dear? You could live the castle as part of our royal counsel. We would give you anything you wanted. You could come to appreciate and admire our fair land."
Betty shook her head no. "Thank you, your majesty. Your offer is very sweet, and Wenn and its citizens are lovely, but I have friends at home who will worry if I don't get back soon. The place where I work needs me."
Hilaria laughed. "Why didn't you remind me sooner? Lady Pablum's bronze medallion should be able to return you to Pittsburgh in no time. It's not as powerful as mine, but it should suffice."
Betty gasped. "You mean I've had the way home around my neck since we left Gingerside Manor, and I never knew it?"
"I told you that there was a charm connected to it." admitted Hilaria. "But it only activates if one learns a very simple lesson. You've know it all along, dear. It's the one about finding your heart's desire in your own backyard."
Betty Roberts gazed around her, suddenly a bit reluctant to leave. She had made many friends here. Hilaria and Sir Jeff, Queen Gerta and King Thomas, and Foley were all hugged in turn. She waved good-bye to Sir Victor and Carabelle, but they were far too lost in each other's eyes notice her. She turned at last to Prince Scot. She threw her arms around him. The medallion glowed again. "I'm going to miss you most of all, Scot. You'll make some lucky princess a good husband and Wenn a good king."
Scot lifted her chin to his smiling face. "You'll always be a princess to me, Bettybettybetty." He kissed her softly on the lips. His kiss was extremly familiar to Betty. She almost asked him if he'd ever kissed her before. No, that was impossible. She'd never met him before today, had she?
"I would have married you if you'd changed your mind." He told her huskily. "I wish you would, but I heard you talking in the tower and I know that you're eager to get home to your Scott and Victor." Betty detected more than a hint of jealousy in his deep, gentle voice. "I feel as if I've known you for a long time. Months, maybe years. Strange, isn't it? I never believed in love at first sight until I woke up and saw you by my bed."
Hilaria tapped Betty on the shoulder. "All you need to do is hold the medallion and say these words over and over again -- 'There's no place like Pittsburgh.' Good luck, dear!"
Betty nodded and did as she was told. The last thing she saw before her world went black was the heartbroken expression on the dimpled face of Prince Scot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Bettybettybetty!"
"Is she ok?"
"She had too much of that decaffinated coffee."
"No, I think I had too much of that decaffinated coffee."
"Hilary, we are not discussing you here!"
Betty Roberts came to in the strong arms of a bleary-eyed Scott Sherwood. They were on the floor of Studio B, and the rest of the cast was gathered around them, looking worse for the wear. Jeff and Scott had both donned their suit jackets again, and Hilary had made some attempt to straighten her hair. Betty stared at the group as if she hadn't seen them in a long time.
"Where am I? Am I in Pittsburgh?" she wondered, dazed, as Scott helped her to her feet. The others exchanged looks that were mixtures of amusement and worry.
"Of course you are. Where else would you be?" asked Hilary.
"I had the craziest dream." Betty explained. "And you, and you, and you," she pointed to Scott and Jeff and Hilary in turn, "and everyone at the station was there. Mr. Abernathy and Nurse Rupkin were there, too. I was in a strange world, and I kept telling everyone that I wanted to go home, but I had the way home on my person the entire time and I didn't know it."
Jeff narrowed his eyes in concern. "Are you certain that you're all right?"
"I'll be fine after a decent night's rest in a real bed." Betty assured him.
"You're in luck, Betty!" squealed Eugenia. "Victor told us to take the entire day off. He said that he'd just play recordings of "Amazon Andy" and "Valiant Journey" until sign-off time."
Betty followed the others out of WENN. Scott insisted on walking her to the trolley, and she was too tired to argue with him. As they walked out the door together, he put a hand on something around her neck.
"Hey," he said, fingering a bronze medallion on a stout chain, "I don't remember seeing this before. Where did you get it?"
Betty was too exausted to even be shocked. She just smiled. "It's a gift from a good friend, Scotty." She could never be quite sure, but the medallion seemed to glow brightly as they left the station arm in arm.
The End