The tree trunks crowded them like too-affectionate relatives as they hurried down the dark path. Ahead, Guybrush saw a glimmer of light--half a minute later, they burst out of the cover of the jungle and onto a dim beach. He came to a stop two steps out onto the pale sands and got his bearings--they were on the beach nearest to the Monkey Head. To their east, an unnatural glow brightened the sky, and thin strains of obnoxious, wailing music could be heard.
Chariset had stopped when he did and was in the process of catching her breath when she froze in place and looked up sharply. He had learned to trust her instincts and turned--sure enough, there was motion at the far end of the beach, person-shaped. It was some figure in dark clothing, walking calmly towards them out of the jungle, making no attempt to hide. Something about the way it moved tugged at his memory.
Beside him, Chari gasped. "Governor?" she cried in a voice of pure astonishment.
That was enough to merit a double-take from Guybrush. "Elaine?!" he called, hardly daring to hope...
The figure paused and looked up--the hood of her cloak lifted enough to betray a hint of gold earring and the familiar curve of one cheekbone. "Elaine!"
With a whoop of pure joy, Guybrush ran across the beach, lifted her off her feet, and swung her around in a wide circle, airborne. Then he caught her up in a fierce enough hug that she made a muffled sound of protest--he released her but cupped both his hands around hers. She was frozen in shock..or was it something else? Her hands were ice-cold in his, and she wouldn't raise her head to look at him. "Elaine..what's happened to you?"
Her head sank even lower. "No...don't look at me." She sank to her knees, face in hands, and began sobbing brokenly. "I'm a monster. A monster."
Now he understood the strange coldness of her hands. "Oh no..." He knelt beside her and put his hands on her shoulders--she twisted and pressed her face into his shirt, still crying. Her body was cold, freezing cold; he could feel it leaching the warmth from his own skin, but he refused to let her go. His Elaine..a zombie. "Let me see your face."
She shook her head, voice muffled in his shirt. "It..it's best that you don't, Guybrush. I don't want ye to see what he's done to me." She would have pulled away, but he held her tight.
"Elaine, I will always think you're beautiful, no matter what you look like now," he whispered firmly in her ear. "And LeChuck will pay for what he's done to you." Despite himself, this emerged as a near-growl, and she raised her face enough to look at him, startled. "How?"
"We've gathered together enough magic to challenge him--and destroy him for good. You'll be alive again by morning."
Chariset approached them on light feet, a moonbeam brushing the necklace at her throat. "We can do it now, Guybrush." Her hand reached for the central stone.
"No!" Guybrush and Chari both glanced at Elaine, startled. "I..I mean, there's no need for that now," she hastily added. "You need ta save that for LeChuck. Once he's gone, then we can worry about me." She pulled away again--he released her and she straightened up into the proud, self-confident leader that he knew and loved. Brave Elaine, he thought proudly, putting everyone else before yourself. He did wonder a bit at her strange behavior, but it was probably nothing to worry about--surely once he knew her reasons, he'd understand it. For now, he felt only a comforting sense of being on the right track as she guided them both up a small trail to the secret entrance to LeChuck's lair. Chariset trailed behind, a faint frown on her face, but he had no time to wonder what was bothering her.
"In here..." Elaine ducked into a patch of trees which proved to surround a small clearing. Typical of most Caribbean copses, it was much larger inside than it looked, though there was nothing in it but a large boulder. Her head explored a tree trunk--she pulled on a small branch and the entire rock slid sideways, revealing a stairway down into the island. Dim amber light glinted up from below.
She preceded them down inside, waiting at the bottom for Guybrush and Chari to enter. The stairs themselves were hard to see and somewhat steep, but once inside--
The light! Even in the small tunnel below the stairs, it was impossible to feel claustrophobic because the walls, floor, and ceiling literally glowed. On closer inspection, it was easy to see why--they were composed of large crystals, clear as glass, but actually made of unmelting ice. They were also incredibly sharp, he discovered, touching one edge and pulling back sharply with a wounded finger. But they caught up light from some distance source and reflected it back with their many facets, so that every surface glowed gold. It was impossible to feel afraid in such lovely circumstances.
Elaine saw him staring and chuckled--for a moment, he saw a glint of her blue eyes, picking up some red tinge from the light, as she gestured with her head. "Follow me."
The golden light only brightened as they walked, but the sharp floor was making walking treacherous. The edges caught on his boot heels or sliced into the soles--he was glad the Barbery trio had insisted he take a pair of boots along. His lighter street shoes would never have lasted in this tunnel. Elaine glided on before them with carefree steps, but he and Chari picked their way along with some trepidation, afraid of a nasty fall on the crystals.
The tunnel led directly forward, and they followed it deeper into the heart of the island, ignoring the several other routes that branched out from this main thoroughfare. Sometimes scuffling or muffled cries came from an offshoot tunnel, making them both pause, but Elaine never hesitated. Apparently this was common enough that it no longer alarmed her, though that itself alarmed him. What had she known in LeChuck's domain?
Eventually they reached
a large intersection where half a dozen tunnels converged at once. More
scuffling noises echoed off the walls, intermixed with loud thuds and scraping,
though with the odd acoustics of the place, it was impossible to tell
where they were coming
from. Elaine debated for a second, then chose the second of the two branches
directly ahead of them.
"Keeping up all right back there, Chariset?" he called over his shoulder. There was no answer. "Chari?"
He turned--and his blood froze. The tunnel was empty behind him. "Chari!"
A hand laid itself on his arm. "They've taken her to LeChuck," Elaine said, resignation in her voice. "When we find him, we'll find her." With sadness in her face, she suggested that they move on.
Guybrush stood still, torn between turning back to search for his sister or going on to deal with the man who had abducted her, but in the end, he reluctantly abandoned Chari to her uncertain fate and walked on. Side by side with Elaine, further into the molten glow of a million ice crystals, he walked on, though pangs of uncertainty tore at him. If this isn't Hell, he thought, it's close enough.
Chariset slowly raised her aching head and coerced her eyes into focusing. She instantly regretted that, because the first image in her line of sight was the pock-marked face of Horace Deadeyes. "Mornin', Captain."
"Oh, it's just you.." Despite the situation, she almost felt like laughing. Here she was, alone underground on a strange island filled with undead pirates, walking skeletons, and a source of some unknown yet horribly powerful magic, prepared to fight to the death--and here was a disgruntled crewmember out to arrest her. Oh no. Anything but that. "Look, I'm really busy right now...do you think you could do this some other time."
A sharp jerk on her wrists, which were sporting heavy iron bracelets, indicated that she should take him more seriously. But Horace himself remained silent, obviously considering how best to verbally intimidate her. Chari took the moment to examine her surroundings.
She was surrounded (and confined) by a crew of men in an odd room, more like a natural cave, complete with sharp stone teeth extending down from the ceiling and more stretching up from the floor. It was also filled with more of the glowing crystals, though now she could see the source of their light. A thick river of molten rock sluggishly oozed past, bubbling against the ice banks. They yielded to the incredibly hot magma, albeit slowly.
Her wrists were manacled together, though in front of her body instead of behind--and one of the cuffs was a little loose. Obviously not too many prisoners with narrow hands passed through here--with a few careful pulls, she was certain she could free at least one hand. She fiddled with the cuff as Horace warmed up to his speech. "Ye're in serious trouble, young lady," he reprimanded. "We got direct orders ta take ye back to our General right away."
He'd put some effort into his threats, she'd give him that--Horace never was very good with words. Too bad it would never have its desired effect. "Believe me on this," she said slowly and clearly, "your General would have to be the Zombie Pirate LeChuck himself for me to take him seriously right now."
"Ahh....what a co-incydence," said a deep baritone voice behind her.
It was the verbal equivalent of a splash of cold water down the back of the neck. Horace, studying her face, chuckled with evil satisfaction at her expression, but she couldn't have cared less about him just then. Slowly and apprehensively, she turned around--to meet the gaze of the Zombie Pirate LeChuck, her inherited arch-enemy.
Her first reaction wasn't so much fear as a gut-level revulsion. He stood tall enough and broad enough to intimidate, that was certain, but his skin was a mottled gray-white, the color of frozen yet rotting meat. His lips were mottled purple, surrounding jagged yellow teeth as he smiled and bowed ironically to her. When he took one of her bound hands in his and pressed those gelid lips to it, she shivered with disgust, every fiber recoiling from his touch. She could even smell him now, the scent of cold meat, dank and horrible. He made dead bodies look healthy.
Most disturbing of all, his eyes were ravenous blue-white flame. They reflected a soul that was more than a beast's, but far, far less than human. The owner of those eyes would devour her in a heartbeat with the unconcern of a man crushing a bug, or worse. They regarded her hungrily and this, more than his horrible appearance, overwhelmed her spirit and made her want to sink back to Deadeyes and huddle behind him rather than face this flame-bearded apparition any longer. His hands crept over hers, large enough to envelop her arms halfway to her elbows, and she fought to pull away--but he held fast. They were cold, so numbingly cold, and she wanted nothing more than to get away from them.
But something in her would not yield, refused to submit to this monster of a man. Her numbed fingers curled into claws, then fists, and she raised her chin and met that inhuman gaze without flinching. He crowded even closer, but she stiffened her spine and would not be moved. An icy blast ruffled her hair as he snorted.
No introductions were made--there seemed to be no need. "Yer brother and my sweet Elaine should be along shortly," he informed her. A more conversational tone could scarcely be imagined, though it was at direct odds with the hungry gleam in his eyes. "In the meantime, why don't we get to know one another?"
She sensed his intentions a second before he moved, but his hands pulled her to him and his lips fastened themselves on hers too quickly to resist. His presence overwhelmed her senses--it was like being embraced by a leech, a monstrous parasite who would steal every ounce of life in her body and leave her an empty husk. She fought, but the horrible, numbing cold was already spreading over her body, over arms, shoulders, face, suspending her will, making it difficult to think. A hand was at her vulnerable neck--the other greedily explored her back, spreading cold with it. She could not even cry out--he smothered her protests with his dank lips. Her vision blurred and for a moment she was certain she was going to faint--and welcomed the coming blackness, welcomed any retreat from this unbearable kiss.
Then whatever had sustained her before woke up--and her fear and revulsion turned to anger in a heartbeat. In one violent motion she twisted out of his embrace, slipped her hand free from the iron cuff, and struck him a two-handed blow with the dangling thing. All of her strength was behind that blow, and it actually knocked him off balance. Burning with rage, she advanced on him, driving him back with more attacks, keeping him confused. Outraged shouts came from behind her, but there was no way any of Deadeyes' men would be able to save their General. The tables were turned--the disheveled and chained prisoner was in charge and the massive guard under her control.
"Murderer," she growled in a voice so distorted she scarcely recognized it. "You've meddled with innocents for the last time." She hooked her free hand in the Amulet's cord, even as he tripped over a clump of crystals and fell helplessly on his back before her. "This is for my brother," she screamed, and lunged at him--
--and something came down hard on her skull. Her last sight was Horace's triumphant face, holding a large chunk of stone, as she toppled into darkness and even more overwhelming disappointment. So close..
The doorway glowed with yellow fire so brightly that it was almost blinding--Guybrush squinted against the light as he ducked through after Elaine's back. The crystal-covered room inside was scarcely less bright, but now he could see why--they had reached the lake of lava in the center of the Monkey Head. In fact, off in the distance the actual Mouth was visible, through which cars of doomed pirates plunged into the molten rock. Their screams echoed off the uneven ceiling.
"Elaine, where--?"
The sound of the massive door locking shut behind him was the closing of a tomb. He whirled--their only exit was bolted closed and guarded by several dozen skeleton pirates. Grinning, they ringed him in a wide circle, bristling with weapons. He braced himself to fight, one hand at the concealed knife in his sash--the only thing between all those men and his wife.
But Elaine didn't look the least bit worried. In fact, she was even smiling. "You always were a fool, Guybrush," she said pleasantly, and pushed back her hood. Flame-hair blazed up, while her expression held nothing but amused contempt. She tossed off her cloak in a dramatic motion and he found himself face to face with the wife of LeChuck--not the unwilling prisoner, but the full and eager partner, eyes bright with malice. She had handed him over to her husband without a second thought.
His own thoughts were paralyzed. "Elaine..how? How could you do this?"
She snorted, "You were never my true love." Her eyes were pitiless. "Pathetic idiot...do ye think I actually loved you? Did ye think I actually cared for you?" She laughed--it tore into his soul like a flint knife. "Ye were never even my equal--how could I ever have loved you?"
She was hard, cold, carelessly cruel as she continued to attack him, and Guybrush could only back away before this blinding attack, mind reeling. Every word hurt more deeply than LeChuck could ever have managed, and the evident pleasure she took from his pain was even worse. But eventually even this seemed to grow old for her, and she stepped in for the death-blow.
"I might've loved ye once," she whispered, taking his face into her firm grip, "but I've seen the error of me ways. Now I see that ye could never've given me what I really needed." She leaned forward and planted a burning kiss on his forehead, then shoved him away.
"So farewell, my pathetic mortal husband. Don't feel bad just because ye couldn't measure up to a real man."
Guybrush sank to his knees, landing among the ice crystals. They cut, but he scarcely felt the pain.
She left her victim staring sightlessly at the floor and approached the side of the river--an island was blooming in its center, formed of ice crystals. It rose on a thick column of ice until it stood three or four feet above the surface, forming an impromptu stage. On it stood the players--her LeChuck, his new right-hand man Deadeyes, and, next to them, a circle of men. These parted, revealing a prisoner in their midst--Guybrush's sister Chariset, looking oddly vulnerable without her cape or jacket. She hung limply in their grasp, but when LeChuck approached, she raised her head. Her gaze was tired and bleary but direct--even at this distance she was clearly unintimidated. Elaine, having dealt with Guybrush, now waited to see how her husband would deal with his sister.
Another roller car rocketed down the tracks, but this one slowed to a halt before it touched the surface of the lava. In it was a group of six men--sailors, not pirates--white-faced with fear. At the sight of them, Chariset stiffened and turned pleading eyes to LeChuck--he smirked and held his ground. She was a Captain--no doubt those six were her crew. How foolish, Elaine mused, to care so deeply for something mortal. It'll only die, and then where will ye be? Devastated, like this fool on the floor, here. He had made himself vulnerable by loving her; his vulnerability was a weakness and she despised weakness. How could he assume that she'd never leave him? There was only one man who would never leave--and that man was LeChuck.
Why, then, did she feel that twinge of guilt? Those voices in her head had fallen silent long ago, so it couldn't have been from them. She shook it off and turned her attention back to LeChuck. This was her favorite part of the breaking ritual--the impossible choice.
"I give ye a choice, lass. Either ye watch yer crew pass through Big Whoop and join me in undeath....or ye marry me."
She was betrayed--face pale, she stood frozen, eyes fixed on her love, her LeChuck. How could he--how had--? She was undone--she had cast everything in with him, all her bridges were burned. Oh, Guybrush... whispered the voice in her heart. Now I understand....what have I done?
Two tears, real tears, slowly fell from eyes that had all but forgotten how to cry; she curled around herself and sobbed bitterly.
"Well, lass?"
Chariset could clearly see the faces of her men--some terrified, some almost senseless. Nic alone met her eyes, but his calm gaze seemed to accuse her of betrayal before the entire world. How could she have their deaths on her soul? But then how could she spend all eternity with this monster? She shook her head. "I can't--"
The dropping of LeChuck's arm was the fall of a guillotine, sudden and irrevocable. The car fell into the lava with merciful quickness, but she still heard the screams of her men as they plunged to their deaths. She covered her ears, closed her eyes, but the scene was burned into her memory--when she reluctantly looked up again, the car sat on the other side of the lake, peopled with living skeletons. Their bone faces were blank, revealing very little of the men they had once been. But she felt like her own bones must be showing under the waves of guilt that scoured her--maybe you came prepared to die, but they didn't, she thought bitterly. You didn't need to drag them down with you.
LeChuck left her little time for regret. He gathered a fistful of the silk of her shirt and drew her in close. "Now..answer me. Either ye take me as yer husband, or ye goes in after 'em."
Suddenly, this all seemed too ludicrous to be real. "You're still asking me to marry you?" she choked out. "Why would I? You've killed or tortured everyone I've ever cared for--what feelings could I possibly have for you?"
That earned her a cold glare, but she matched him eye-for-eye and did not back away. Eventually he shoved her back into the grasp of Deadeyes and a cohort with a frustrated sound. "I used ta think marriage was fer love," he admitted at last. "When Elaine was mine at last, I made sure that she would love me--but that never seemed ta make things easier. No matter how much she loved me, it only got in the way of what I was really wantin'." He had been looking inward, but now he refocused on her. "I'm not givin' ye a choice because I want yer love. I'm just givin' ye the chance to make it easier on yerself." Now he leaned back in, making no attempt to hide the hunger in his eyes. "I'll have ye undead or alive, Threepwood, willing or unwilling. Ye know that."
"I know that," she agreed, marveling at her utter lack of fear. "But even if you force me to marry you, I'll never be what you're really wanting. I'll never love you for yourself. You know that." Her voice was without hatred, or even anger, as she faced her worst enemy, "I can't marry you. That's my answer."
Just for an instant, she saw a flicker of real, human emotion in his undead eyes--some trace of the man he had once been. But then Deadeyes yanked her sharply back by her dangling manacle cuff and the moment was broken. "Then prepare ta die, 'Captain.'"
LeChuck made another heavy gesture, and two men pinned her arms behind her back over the molten pool of lava. She looked up only once--there was her brother Guybrush, on his knees across the river--but he was reaching carefully into his sash where the Mask was hidden. The skeleton pirates around him hadn't appeared to notice what he was doing; if she could just buy him a moment or two, there was still hope for their mission.
Horace, ironically, was her ally in this. He leaned over to look in her face, no doubt gloating over her defeat.
"So this is how it ends, eh, Captain?" As before, he twisted the word into a mocking insult. "Ye're going to die, just like all the rest of us, for nothin'."
Chariset felt her mouth stretch into an ironic half-smile. "You're right, Horace," she answered. "I'm going to die. But if I die..." she reached a foot back and hooked it behind his ankle.. "then you're coming with me." In one motion she jerked her foot, leaped out of the grip of her startled guards, and screamed, "Now, Guybrush!"
Horace lost his balance and fell over the edge, screaming hoarsely. Chariset hovered in mid-air, suspended over the boiling rock of Big Whoop for a small eternity, watching his slow-motion flailings. She would never fall in--she had mastered flight.
Then Guybrush cried her name in sheer anguish--the Mask of Medusa dropped from his hands just as skeletal backs closed around him and blocked her from her view. Her last image of the world she knew was Elaine's face, pinched and hopeless, as soldiers hauled Guybrush to his feet. Horace was right--she would die for nothing. Her long fight was ended too soon.
She closed her eyes and knew nothing but utter despair, even when the heat and pain enveloped her, despair until the nothingness swept it all away.
If this ice-island was a stage, this was the final act. Guybrush stood in the center of a ring of skeletons, facing LeChuck and a white-faced Elaine. She was leaning heavily on LeChuck's arm, desperately seeking some reassurance--he had a hand around her waist but only half of his attention was on her. In his other hand was the object that would have destroyed him--the Mask of Medusa. And once again he was verbally dancing the evil villain dance of triumph, hoping for some reaction from his prey.
Guybrush, no doubt, was bitterly disappointing him. He felt almost nothing in this final moment--his system was so spent that fear was utterly beyond him. He knew he was going to die, and he didn't care.
"There's nothing left for you to take from me, LeChuck," he finally said tiredly. "I don't even care what you do to me anymore, just do it quickly and get it over with."
LeChuck snorted with what did indeed sound like frustration, but all he did was turn the Mask over in his hands. "This be a very interestin' toy ye brought me, Threepwood. The famous Mask of Myth Island--I never thought ye'd be foolish enough to come against me with this." He laughed, but it was too-loud, a man laughing at a joke that no one else finds funny. "How ironic...ta kill ya with the very weapon you were goin' ta use against me." Here he paused, waiting for a response, but Guybrush remained silent, waiting for him to get to the point. Eventually he did--"How would ye like ta be a statue in my garden fer all eternity?" The Mask shifted in his undead grasp.
I don't care, was on the tip of Guybrush's tongue, but what he actually said was "Wait--"
LeChuck looked moderately curious. Ah, his enemy wanted something from him after all. "What?"
"Can I say a few last words to Elaine before I go?" he asked, the words bubbling up out of some deep corner of his heart (to the astonishment of the rest of him).
The other considered. "Ahhhh...why not? I'm somethin' of a romantic at heart." He stepped aside, leaving Guybrush and Elaine to face each other.
Guybrush hesitated, then pushed back the hood of his cloak so she could see his eyes, taking a cautious step forward. "Elaine...I know your heart," he began carefully. "You were my wife for six months, and those six months were the happiest of my entire life. I knew that you loved me then--I know that you must still love me now." He took another slow step. "But even if all that was a lie, I still love you. You will always be my wife to me, even if you love LeChuck now." They were very close now, so close that he could have taken her hand, though he made no move to. But she remained frozen with her eyes on the floor--he couldn't tell whether any of this was reaching her. "I love you more than I knew a man could love a woman," he finished. Now came the hard part. "And so I'm going to let you go. Farewell, my Elaine." He stepped back, swallowing hard, but what needed to be said was said. Now he could die.
"Good riddance, Threepwood," put in LeChuck, stepping between them abruptly, the Mask already halfway to his face.
Time slowed once more--Guybrush, resigned to death, saw Elaine suddenly look up and her soul was clearly visible in her eyes. There was a battle going on there--the part of her that was Elaine wrestled something darker and more sinister. Simultaneously surges of white light roiled inside the jet-black stone of her wedding ring.
The end was both quiet and dramatic. She closed her eyes just once, and when she looked up, she was Elaine again. But at the same time there was an explosion of white light above her left hand--shreds of black fell away from a pure white gem. It was the very stone he had fought so hard to get for her, the Blood Island diamond. And now he saw that all of her love for LeChuck had been just a black, artificial overlay over something that, deep down, was still pure--just like her diamond.
But LeChuck had already brought the Mask to his face. The shattering of the spell had come too late--
"No!" Elaine leaped forward, desperately grabbing for LeChuck's arm--he whirled around, Mask still in place--
--and she was turned instantly into a stone statue. Her beautiful face was frozen forever into a mask of pure determination/despair, hands stretched out. The woman he loved had given her life to save him.
"Elaine!" cried LeChuck and Guybrush simultaneously. But the living pirate was the first to react--she had bought him one last chance. He lunged at LeChuck and wrestled the Mask from his hands, then set it to his own eyes and caught him in the deadly blue gaze.
It was over in a heartbeat--now there was a stone tableau before him. A huge stone pirate turned in shock and grief to a tall woman who stretched out her arms to him. All around him, skeletons milled in confusion--he warned away the ones who were still collected enough to attack with the Mask. But this was almost an instinctive reaction--he was numb and cold inside.
Somehow his shaking legs carried him to her side--his Elaine was lost and won and lost again...it hurt too badly to think about. Instead he cupped his hands around her face and looked into her stone eyes, wanting to cry and lacking the energy. In a state of exhausted numbness, he threw both arms around her neck and laid his head down on them, scarcely knowing how to feel.
And then, in that moment of his utter loss, she came. She rose up out of the lava of the lake, hair loose on her back, and put her hands on his shoulders. "Surprise, Guybrush."
He caught Chariset up in his arms in a heartbeat, torn between laughing and crying, while she tried to stifle her squeak of protest. "You...you're alive? But how..?"
She shook her head, unsinged hair flying. "I don't know...but if I had to guess, I'd say it was the Amulet."
"The Amulet.." He fought down an unreasoned wave of hope. "Chari, I--"
She had already removed it from her neck--at his signal, she carefully placed it around his. Somehow this seemed like the right thing to do. Then he turned back to Elaine, breathed a quick prayer, and kissed her.
Any other kiss would never have worked, but this kiss was the purity of love mingled with the unyielding drive that had made Guybrush what he was--it defied death, magic, and Hell itself to take Elaine away from him. The sheer power of it all made Chariset catch her breath--it was easily the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
And then, from the white stone of the Amulet, came a gentle glow, a color she had never seen. It was white and gold and somehow blue and silver and yet none of these. It spread over the two figures with slow majesty--over their faces, arms, hands. It flowed like fire over the area around them, touching everything with a borrowed beauty. Tendrils of it even brushed her, bringing some kind of healing with them. It was suddenly harder to remember what it had felt like to plunge into Big Whoop.
The light might have remained for seconds or hours--she couldn't tell. But eventually it gathered itself back together, centered over the keystone of the Amulet, and vanished. And there stood Elaine, alive, turning the tables on her loving husband with a passion to match his. One hand, his, was touching her hair--real hair, not flame--as though it couldn't believe what it found, while she was holding him as tightly as though she meant to make up for weeks of separation in one embrace. Nothing could ever come between them again.
The kiss came to its conclusion as simply and naturally as falling rain. She tucked her head under his and he drew her even closer. "Elaine.." he said softly, a wealth of feeling in those two syllables. "Guybrush.." she answered. It was all that needed to be said.
By some unspoken agreement, they both turned, then, and offered their arms to Chariset. She stepped into their embrace and held them both tightly, even as they both held her. A tear rolled down her face, but her joy was mostly too great to properly express..too great for her even to understand. There just were no words for such a feeling as this. They had done it--despite all the odds and magic against them, they had won. She rolled the words in her mind again, enjoying the feel of them. They had surmounted. They had--
--a heavy blow struck her aside. She was thrown to the sharp floor, rolled, feeling the bite of the crystal edges. Dozens of skeletons appeared around her--Chariset struggled to get to her feet. Somewhere beyond her, Elaine cried out. What happened? screamed her mind as half a dozen undead soldiers jumped on top of her.
Guybrush had no hint of danger until he felt Elaine and Chari roughly torn from his grasp. He spun around, but even as he turned, a crushing blow smashed him to the ground. He struggled up to his knees before another came down hard on his head, driving him down a second time into the unforgiving ice crystals. He landed with enough force to shatter them, leaving him face-down in the shards, head ringing. Blood welled up in numerous tiny cuts in his arms and legs--he tasted more in his mouth as he fought his way up to hands and knees. This time, the blow landed in his ribs, a distinct kick that sent him rolling among the vicious shards again--but then he finally saw his opponent.
LeChuck. No longer a zombie, but rather an animate stone statue, with all the strength of stone and none of the feeling of a flesh-and-blood creature. Their supposed 'victory' over him had only served to give him a near-invincible body. Guybrush paled--the words of the Voodoo Priestess, spoken so long ago on Plunder Island, came unbidden to his mind, "His power seems to grow with every incarnation."
Despair gave him strength--he managed to get to his feet, though a sharp pain pierced through his side and nearly doubled him over. Arm pressed to his side, he drew his knife, determined to make a stand of it, but the blade snapped off against the pirate's stone body. Another heavy cuff put him on the floor again.
This time, LeChuck gave him no chance to rise. He stood over his enemy, stone teeth bared, "So ye like ta play rough, do ye Threepwood?!" His voice boomed hollowly, like an echo, but his fist was unmistakably solid. Twice he slammed it down in a blow that would split Guybrush's skull if it connected--twice he was just barely able to avoid it. But then LeChuck seized both his arms, yanked him into the air, then caught him in a crushing, bone-breaking bear hug. One, two ribs snapped, lancing him with needles of white-hot agony--he screamed but blood rose in his throat and choked him off. He writhed in LeChuck's agonizing embrace, striking out blindly against the stone body, feeling his insides crushed to pulp, feeling his breath catch itself in his chest. LeChuck dropped him--he landed in a heap at his feet, fighting for air. He collapsed onto his side, blood trickling from one corner of his mouth--he coughed again and it splattered on the ground. Curled around the agonizing emptiness of his chest like a dying wasp, he lay helpless while LeChuck smirked down on him. He fought to speak but was unable to make a sound.
The statue slowly lifted a massive stone foot--just as slowly it came to rest on Guybrush's head. He knew it waited for the signal to crush the life out of his dying body, and some part of him even welcomed the coming oblivion--
--but he was a Threepwood, and there was another part of him that had never laid itself down to die. Even as the foot began to apply pressure, he fought back--"..wait.." His voice emerged as a harsh whisper. "There's...something I need...to tell you..."
The foot receded--LeChuck peered down at him, curiosity written on his stone features. Guybrush's hand began the impossibly long journey up to the Amulet at his neck. "Well?"
"LeChuck, you.." a spasm of pain interrupted him just as he took hold of the central stone. "..you were right. Back there, on Dinky...Island, you said we were...brothers. I didn't....believe you then...but now I know...that you were right."
"Now wait...I didn't mean--"
Guybrush coughed and gasped, fighting instinctively for more air. "Not physically...brothers," he said when he could speak again. "But you're just..like me. I'm just like you. I see it now. We were both...pirates, both young men...wanting to find treasure. Both would have done..." another cough, more blood "..anything for Elaine." LeChuck had opened his eyes wide, and Guybrush weakly pressed his point, "We're brothers. We need...each other. You need me." His labored breathing required no acting. "Don't let it end this way, LeChuck. We should rule together...like brothers...for all eternity."
Guybrush's eyes sought
LeChuck's. "Pick me up...brother...throw me into Big
Whoop...we'll never
be alone again."
His voice failed him then, but the stone pirate was swayed--he slowly knelt down and bent over Guybrush's body. And somehow, in those empty eyes, the dying pirate saw a hint of what he had once been, a soul very like his, only twisted by greed and power. He reached down to take Guybrush into his arms--
Now. It must be now. And with his last ounce of will, he snapped the center stone from his neck and pressed it firmly against LeChuck's chest. The surge of pain that racked him then half-blinded him and sent him falling helplessly back into the embrace of the crystals, but his arm had done its work. The stone, glowing with power, remained attached to the zombie's undead heart--by the time LeChuck realized the danger, it was already too late. The glow engulfed him as a spider overwhelms an insect--slowly yet rapidly it swallowed up his chest, his arms and legs, strangely and horribly leaving his face for last. A slow panic spread over it as LeChuck realized that he was dying.
"Aah...aaaaahh...AAaaAAAaaHH..." he screamed, prying at the thing with his glowing appendages, suffering as horribly as any of his victims had. His eyes were turned pleadingly to Guybrush--beseechingly he stretched out his hand.
To his lasting credit as a human being, Guybrush somehow found a way to respond, to reach out two trembling fingers towards his worst enemy and murderer, before the glow completely enveloped LeChuck. The scream cut off abruptly, then the glow itself drained away like water and vanished on the wind. Only a gray/brown, amorphous form remained, towering over him--for an instant he could see the human body it had once been; but then it, too, broke its unity and slid over him, chest and legs, reduced to nothing but harmless dust. His brother covered him in a blanket of earth.
And then Guybrush, his
task completed, slowly let go. His hand and head sank to the ground,
his eyes took in one more view of the world and fell closed for the last
time. A quiet sigh passed through his frame, a breath that slipped painlessly
away into the night. There was no more painful struggle to draw another--the
long battle for life was ended. Guybrush Threepwood, mighty pirate,
was dead.