They brought him out of the mountain in the early morning and laid him
out on the grass on a hillside. It was
that still, gray time before sunrise, when the glow of false dawn has faded,
but before the sun actually rises--it
suited her mood. Chariset held the remains of the Necromancer's Amulet
in her hands--the cord was broken and
the central stone was nothing but brown slag. Whatever power had destroyed
LeChuck had completely melted the gemstone.
She lowered herself down on the ground next to her brother, eyes on the
Caribbean but not really seeing it. Elaine
sat down across from her in unnatural silence, twisting her fingers idly.
She didn't really feel anything, either,
but when she did give way to the wave of emotions, it might break her in
two. Chariset wanted nothing more than
to be alone, but she dared not leave Elaine...and perhaps she herself might
do something desperate if no one was there
to see her.
The six skeletons who had come out with them formed an uneven circle around
the inner three, shifting uncomfortably
on their bone feet. Neither of the two women moved. Chariset blinked once
or twice, holding back a tear, but she
had fled deep into her inner world of thought. Ah, Guybrush....you had
to be the hero, didn't you? You had to
deal with LeChuck personally, didn't you? What possessed you to take on
the undead? You had no hope of actually
winning. She blinked again. Well, fine..be dead. See if I care.
This time the tear fell despite her best efforts. A sniff followed, and
she gave in and laid her head on her drawn-in
knees. I do care. Oh, I care. I'm going to miss you so terribly...
If only... If only, if only, if only... If I'd just been a little faster...
If only it had been me going into that whirlpool
instead of you. If only LeChuck had known when to quit...then you'd still
be alive. If only this were a story and
everything would come out all right in the end. If only there was some
way to take it all back! Oh, Guybrush...it
wasn't supposed to end this way! If there was any justice at all in this
world, you'd still be with us..
She looked into his face and saw the peace there. Maybe, years, later,
it would give her some comfort to remember
that he died contented. Even if she couldn't imagine that now..
A hand landed on her shoulder--she glanced up at what she thought was Nic
and saw Elaine. "Chari...I'm.."
Just that nickname alone was enough to set her off--she burst into tears.
Elaine surprised her by taking her into
her arms and holding her close. "Oh Elaine..he's gone. He's gone, and nothing's
ever going to bring him back."
"Shhh...ssshhhh...I know.." Long, long moments passed while the formerly
reticent older woman stroked her
hair and Chariset thoroughly soaked her silk shirt with tears. But eventually
she made an effort to pull away, and Elaine
let her go. They sat in awkward silence for a second, then a soft "E-excuse
me? Mrs. Brush?" interrupted them. They
both turned--a small, red-haired lad flinched away from Chariset's
expression and nervously stared at the ground.
"What is it, Wally?" Elaine asked gently but tiredly.
"Well, ye see...I.." He seemed to catch sight of Guybrush for the first
time. "Gaw...Mr. Brush." He looked up at
them both, slightly shame-faced. "Naw..I'll come back some other time."
"Wait a second...do you have a sister named Holly?" asked Chariset, some
slow understanding dawning.
She had a feeling this might be important.
"Why, yes. How'd you know?"
"We met..on Myth Island. She made a mask for us."
"Oh, yeah..that's what I wanted ta show ya. I found this..." he reached
under his little jacket and pulled out a
splintered wooden thing. It was cracked and chipped, but unmistakably the
remnants of the Mask of Medusa.
"It looks like me sister's work."
"Do you know what it is?"
"Sure...it's that mask thingy the Greeks worship." Wally sounded offhanded
about the whole thing.
"And do you know what it does?" Chariset persisted.
"Not really," the red-haired boy admitted.
She took the thing into her hands and looked it over. Miraculously, those
two blue eye-stones remained intact, though
the entire face had been broken-in by a powerful blow. It had probably
been destroyed when her brother...died.
The eyes stared at her like the gaze of a Sphinx--full of words of wisdom
but not telling anyone what they were.
She felt drawn into their gaze--bluer than her own, clear as ice, unblinking
as the great Eye of the Caribbean Sea
itself. And something in her mind made an intuitive connection.
Elaine and Wally both startled as she jerked up sharply, fingers already
prying at the melted stub of glass in the Amulet's teardrop. In the end,
she beat it out with the pommel of her knife, pried one of the eye-stones
out of its setting, and wedged it into place. It was a perfect fit, as
she'd known it would be.
The red-haired woman suddenly understood what she meant to do. "Do you
think..?" Her tone was naked hope, vulnerably
so--if this didn't work, it would hurt her and badly.
"I hope so," she said honestly, threading a broken end of the cord through
the top of the teardrop and knotting the
two ends. She was trembling as she set it over her head, trying not to
hope for anything but afraid of failure
at the same time. It rested just below her collarbone--she grasped it in
her hand and willed it into life.
It exploded into a burst of blue flame--fire that centered on the ember
of the stone but spread painlessly over
her hands and arms. She held her fingers up before her face, fascinated
by the tiny fires that burned over them--warm
but not scorching. Wally gasped, but Elaine leaned forward with an eager
expression. Of course, said some rational
corner of her mind, she's seen magic before.
Suddenly it seemed right to clasp her left hand with Elaine's right--the
flames spread between them without the
slightest hint of dying down. Then she reached out and placed her hand
over her brother's, which lay folded over
his breast. She and Elaine moved simultaneously, completing a circle of
blue flame. The fire engulfed them completely
at this point--she should have been afraid of being consumed, but she felt
no fear.
Something balked the flame, even though it spread over all three of them.
Somehow, their combined strength wasn't
enough to overcome the other force, which seemed to personify itself as
Cold. Pain and Brokeness vanished
away, but the Cold persisted. It beat back their blue flames--they tightened
their grip and fought harder.
A small hand landed atop theirs--Wally had overcome his fear and joined
them. One by one, all the others
joined as well, surrounding themselves with columns of blue fire. Under
their combined attack, Cold receded,
but did not yield.
Chariset closed her eyes--and suddenly she saw more people coming in to
join them from all directions, though
no one was physically there. The Voodoo Priestess was first, then the Necromancer,
Holly, Murray (he took their hands in
his jaws), Haggis and the rest of the Barbery trio, and a whole host of
people she didn't know. Three scruffy-looking
men in pirate garb, a kind-looking skeletal woman and another skeleton
who was her groom, a broad-faced man in a fine
suit, a strong-jawed man in a loud plaid coat, another pirate
with a conspicuously light beard, yet another man with fiery-red hair who
resembled Elaine too much to be anything
but a relative, a brown-skinned islander in a large mask shaped like a
lemon, and even, fleetingly, a monkey
who appeared to have three heads. Each added a little bit of strength to
the battle--each forced the Cold back
a little farther.
Then, strangest of all, a tall man in a pirate coat walked up out of the
darkness behind her eyes--he was vaguely
familiar, though she could scarcely say why. Then he looked up, and she
caught her breath--it was Chuck. No longer
LeChuck, no longer a zombie, but a human being with real feelings. He gazed
down at them for long moments, expression
unreadable, then he reached out and touched his hands to theirs.
The Cold knew its master--it ran to him,
departing its former home, and curled up in his hands.
Chuck looked at her, and her skin prickled. His eyes were filled with an
expression indescribable....it was regret
and yet it was not quite sadness. A single tear appeared in his black eyes,
glinting in the blue light, but then he
turned and vanished like a sigh of wind. All the other spirits, or shades,
or whatever they were, swirled away with
him, leaving her alone in her mind.
"Chari...look!" She opened her eyes on the sun rising over the Caribbean--it
played cruel tricks on her. For a moment,
it appeared that the cold pallor over Guybrush's face had been replaced
by a healthy color.
But if that was a trick of the light, so was the slight rise and fall of
his chest; so was the noisy breath he took; so
was the slow fluttering of his eyelids as he struggled to open them. To
her absolutely incredulous joy, he cracked
an eyelid, winced away from the sun, shook his head slightly and opened
both eyes. She quickly moved to
shade his face from the light.
He was blinking as though waking up from deep sleep. "Chari..Elaine..where
am I? Where's LeChuck?"
"Guybrush...don't you remember?" asked Elaine.
"I remember...LeChuck was a statue, and I--" He tried to sit up but winced
at some pain in his side.
Whatever healing the Amulet had done, apparently it did not extend to bones.
Elaine pressed him back down with both hands. "You destroyed him...but
you were hurt. We brought you out here
after the battle," she explained. "Do you remember any of that?"
He shook his head helplessly. "But I had the strangest dream... I dreamed
I was dead--"
His tone was disbelieving and Chariset and Elaine exchanged quick glances--
"but you two and LeChuck saved me. Isn't
that funny?"
Elaine and her brown-haired accomplice chuckled weakly and left it at that.
Two hours later found them in the Captain's cabin, surrounding or sitting on the bed. Guybrush was actually in the bed, sides strapped up with white bandages. A doctor on the island had confirmed three ribs broken, had bound them up and ordered him to stay quiet for three or four weeks...at the least. His wife and sister had emphatically agreed, much to his disgruntlement. This broken-bone business was surely going to crimp his piratey style.
Chari had fallen asleep on the window seat almost immediately, though she
had insisted that he wear the Amulet
for the time being. The six crewmembers were outside on the deck cavorting
in pure joy--somehow they had been restored to human beings and were celebrating
their flesh and blood in wild acrobatics.
Among them were a handful of LeChuck's former men. One had gone so far
as to dive off the side of the ship with
a fellow crewman in tow, resulting in a noisy splashing contest that he
could observe through a cabin window.
Elaine was next to him, sitting on the bed, hand clasped in his. "Elaine.."
he began, "I was dead, wasn't I?"
She averted her eyes but eventually answered him. "Yes, Guybrush."
"But you brought me back, somehow. You, and Chari, and everyone I knew--you
brought me back. How?"
"We were desperate enough to do anything, Guybrush," she answered simply.
"You didn't..you aren't--"
She chuckled. "No, we're not undead. There won't be any more undead pirates
out of Monkey Island--not ever." His expression
prompted another chuckle. "Big Whoop is closed for good. Not long after
we took ye out, the lava started ta harden
up--now there's tons of rock over it." She glanced over at Chari. "I think
it happened when yer sister went in wearing
the Amulet."
"I still don't see how she could have survived..."
Elaine shook her head. "We'll never understand that Amulet--but it heals
and it reverses magic. That's the only
thing I can think of that could've saved her."
He nodded, feeling his eyes growing heavy. It was getting harder to follow
the conversation.
"Ye should get some sleep. When do ye want to get remarried?"
That woke him up. "What?"
She grimaced. "Sorry..but the vows say "'Til death us do part.' And we've
both been dead, Guybrush."
"Back on Plunder Island..." he yawned despite his best efforts. He tried
to kiss her hand but she pulled out of
his grasp. "Hey! Aren't you staying?"
"No no no no....not until we're remarried. I think I'll sleep in one of
the guest cabins for the next few weeks," she
said mischievously and departed out the door before he could come up with
a suitable reply. Irritating woman, he
thought muzzily. Ah, well...with these ribs, it'd be a while before he
felt up to...anything. These next
few weeks are going to pass very slowly...
Chariset and Elaine raided the armory the next afternoon and armed their
little band of nine--then they prospected
the tunnels of Monkey Island. Most of the skeletal pirates they encountered
were willing to be restored to normal
and a touch of the Amulet created crowds of human beings, usually jubilant
human beings who would have followed
their savior to their deaths. But sometimes they met pirates who truly
had followed LeChuck out of loyalty
and had enjoyed serving him--these were usually destroyed at the touch
of the Amulet or died under their swords when
made human. It was hard work, emotionally and physically--they
both returned to the Sea Cucumber day after day feeling disheartened and
drained.
Guybrush did what he could to comfort them both, but he was feeling emotional
strain himself. The sooner this business
of clearing the island was finished, the happier everyone would be.
Sometimes, Chariset would stay at the ship for a few hours and try to heal
his broken ribs--the progress was almost
imperceptible, but it was there. By the end of two weeks, he could breathe,
cough, even laugh without that telltale
stab of pain, though he still was not allowed out of bed. He became a great
friend of the monkeys Chari and Elaine
had discovered imprisoned under the island, and they came to visit every
day, sometimes for hours at a time. He
taught them the occasional trick, with bananas as a ready reward--Nic
joked once that they were smart enough to learn
how to sail. He looked a bit startled at the odd look
Guybrush gave him for that.
They saw nothing of Horace Deadeyes, which worried his sister--that is,
nothing until their very last day on
the island. Guybrush made his sad farewell to his monkey friends, who gave
him bananas for going-away presents. His
over-protective women (who would skewer him if they ever heard him call
them that) had finally let him get out
of bed, and so he stood at the railing and watched the preparations to
leave. They were the only ship left at
the docks since the Carnival had fallen apart--now even they cast off and
drew away.
And then they saw him--a warped little figure, clothes and hair burned
black. He leaped up and down on the end
of the dock, screaming half-audible threats.
"Hey....ack here....I swear I'll....as long as you live, Chariset Threepwood!
As long as you live!!" He continued to
leap and scream as long as they were still in sight.
"If he survived Big Whoop," mused Elaine, "that means he must be..."
"..one of the undead," finished Guybrush. Chariset just sighed and shook
her head. "Well, sis," he said brightly,
"it looks like you're moving up in the world. You've got one of the undead
for a bitter and life-long enemy. Congratulations!"
If looks could kill..
"Ah, well," she finally said with resignation. "At least it'll be a while
before he'll be able to get off the island."
Guybrush just grinned impishly. "You could always just move to Monkey Island--save
yourself the trouble of coming back again
and again."
She changed the subject. "And speaking of unfinished business, isn't there
something you were planning to do?"
"Oh, right..." He paused, searching his pockets. "Now..I want to do it
right this time...ah, there it is." He pulled
something small out and held it in his hand. "Elaine, would--?"
Chari leaned on the rail, arms folded. "Come on...on your knees. Be romantic."
It was his turn to sigh. But he obligingly got down on one knee before
Elaine, took her hand, looked up into her
eyes, and said "Elaine, will you marry me? Again?"
She put a finger to her lips and pretended to consider. "Wellllll..."
"Hurry up..I can't stay down here much longer!"
"Oh, I suppose.." said Elaine with a great show of reluctance. "Third time's
the charm, right?" Chariset chuckled.
It was a conspiracy. "Get your finger over here, woman," he 'growled.'
With as much reverence as he could manage,
he slipped the tiny band over her left ring finger, sending a little shimmer
of light through the diamond. Perhaps
it wasn't as magical as the stone of the Amulet, but it meant infinitely
more to him.
Elaine smiled at him as she helped him stand up. "It's good ta have ye
back, Guybrush Threepwood. Even if--"
He cut her off with a kiss.
If this were a movie, the kiss would have blended seamlessly into a wedding
scene without any mention of intervening
time--but life seldom has the convenience of movie editing. It took over
a week to find Plunder Island; once there,
they encountered the Governor's guard. In the confusion, Chariset actually
got arrested and Elaine and Guybrush worked
all night to clear her name. She eventually had to plead guilty to a charge
of killing Horace Deadeyes in self-defense--then
all three of them told their stories to the judges about the end
of LeChuck and the discovery that Horace was actually one of the undead.
The five or six crewmen who had once been
LeChuck's men supported their every word, while Chariset danced a little
blue flame on a fingertip to confirm the
Amulet story. But all of their reason might have been called into question
were it not for a few unexpected visitors--the
Necromancer and the Voodoo Priestess, who upheld their story.
Wally, too, put in his own two bits, and eventually they won their case.
Captain Chariset Threepwood and all the
members of her crew were acquitted of the charges, and the men of the Monkey
Island band were given full pardons.
Just before the trial concluded, the senior judge drew her aside. "This
was found two days ago in a bottle--I
would not admit it as evidence, but I think you should see it." It was
a crumpled letter accusing her of every atrocity
known to man or woman, and signed "Horace Deadeyes."
"You've got an angry enemy here, Captain Threepwood," he added. "And it
would seem that he has an accomplice
or two in the area. You might want to think about your options."
She swallowed. "Thank you. I appreciate your help."
"I don't believe any of this m'self, of course," he concluded, leaving
the unspoken but there are others who will hanging
in the air as he walked away.
Then followed another unsettling interview--this time in the wreck of the
Magic Queen, consulting with the Voodoo
Priestess. The Necromancer stood next to her, but neither revealed what
their relationship to one another might be now. They insisted that she
tell her entire story, and there must have been more Threepwood
in her than she thought, because she told them everything. They were silent
until she reached the point where they
had used the Amulet to restore Guybrush to life, but then they seemed to
pale and look nervously at one another.
"What? What is it?" she asked in some concern.
"It's just...the Amulet can't raise the dead," said the Necromancer. "I've
tried it before--nothing happens at all."
Chariset felt her blood freeze. Wasn't it the Amulet that.... "Then how--?"
The Voodoo Priestess regarded her gently. "I think there may be more to
you than you know. Would you consider
becoming my apprentice when you come back?"
"Wait....how did you know I was..."
"Planning on leaving?" She shrugged, "It's the logical thing to do. Getting
out of the area for about a year will
give the rumors some time to die down--maybe even Deadeyes will eventually
give up." Chariset snorted. That hardly
seemed likely.
"But take the Amulet with you," put in the Necromancer. "You may need it."
His expression suggested that there was
more to this gift than a simple premonition--it seemed that whatever blessing,
or curse, on the Threepwood name that
made all its members adventurers was still going strong. She had to fight
down a sigh, though the idea of roaming
free was not without its appeal.
"Where will you go?" asked the priestess.
"I hear there are some new English colonies north of here," she reflected,
"someplace called America. Maybe I'll
go up there."
"That sounds like an excellent idea," murmured the priestess with eyes
like the gems of Medusa's Mask, revealing
nothing of their owner's real thoughts. Chariset took that as a good sign.