The music came to an end with a cheerful crescendo, and she looked up quickly to see that the musical ride had ended and the team were lined up in the middle of the field. Applause broke out as the riders bowed, then they started to file at a walk towards the gate.
And the answer that Nan had been looking for suddenly came to her. Marga was very like the Cornish word Margh, which meant Horse. And the first three letters of Lossie – L, O, S – were the Cornish word for…
Grey.
Nan’s face lost all its colour and she gasped aloud, ‘Oh, dear God!’
Mrs Richards looked at her in surprise but Nan took no notice. She was already pushing through the crowd, fighting her way towards the gate as the musical ride team left the field.
Joel led them out, and Tamzin was fifth in the line. But as the fourth rider came through the gate Lossie started to play up. He pranced and sidestepped, shaking his head. Then his tail swished in the face of the pony behind him. The pony snorted and aimed a nip at Lossie’s hindquarters –
And Lossie reared, swung round and bolted, with Tamzin clinging to his back.
‘Tamzin!’ Nan screamed. But there was nothing she could do. The ponies behind Lossie scattered as he charged straight at and past them, accelerating to a full gallop and pounding across the field.
Tamzin’s mind was a whirl of terror. Instinctively she tried to stop the horse as she had been taught: pull and slacken on the reins, pull and slacken again – but it was useless. Lossie thundered on. And thirty metres ahead of them was the high stone hedge that marked the field boundary.
Behind her Tamzin could hear shouts of alarm but they meant nothing to her. Instinct was yelling at her to throw herself from the saddle before it was too late, and pray that she wouldn’t be too badly injured. But what if that’s what Marga wants? cried another inner voice. Maybe that’s what she planned all along – to hurt or even kill you in a bad fall, and make it look like an accident?
Suddenly convinced that that was Marga’s plan, Tamzin knew that, somehow, she had to stay on Lossie’s back. But the stone hedge was a high, solid barrier, and Lossie showed no sign of slowing down or swerving aside. He was going to jump it! And Tamzin was a beginner at jumping – half a metre was the most she had ever done, and the wall must be three times that height.
Lossie’s speed increased as he galloped towards the wall and, terrified, Tamzin struggled to remember what Mrs Richards had taught her about jumping. Weight down, grip with your knees, hands forwards…
She screamed aloud as Lossie took off with an incredible leap. The ground dropped away in a dizzying blur as he went over the hedge with room to spare. Then there was a sickening drop that seemed to leave her stomach behind, and the chestnut landed on the far side with bone-shaking force. The impact threw Tamzin forwards on to his neck. Desperately she clutched for handholds – the saddle pommel, Lossie’s mane, anything to stop herself from pitching over his head and into the path of his pounding hooves as he galloped on. Her legs flailed, she screamed again – but somehow she was clinging on, finding a lost stirrup, righting herself…
She had done it! Marga and Lossie had failed!
But the danger was far from over, for Lossie clearly had no intention of slowing down. It was as if he had expected Tamzin to fall, was angry that she had thwarted him, and wanted to try again. They had left the Richards’ land behind them and were heading up the valley, going at breakneck speed. By now other riders had set off in pursuit from the stables, but they had no hope of catching Lossie and were already being left far behind.
The wind streamed breathtakingly in Tamzin’s face as she clung to her precarious hold. She didn’t know where Lossie was taking her or when he would stop. The daylight was fading; it was nearly sunset, and heavy clouds were boiling in from the south-west to hasten the dusk. On they went, the land becoming scrubbier now and littered with stones that could bring down an ordinary horse with no warning.
But Lossie was not an ordinary horse. He seemed to fly over the treacherous surface, his hooves barely touching the ground. All around them was wild and empty space. There were no roads, no houses, no people, and the pursuing riders had given up the hopeless chase. There was nothing Tamzin could do, nothing at all –
She was caught completely by surprise as Lossie suddenly stumbled, or pretended to. He lurched forwards, breaking the galloping rhythm, and Tamzin didn’t stand a chance. She lost her balance, slewed sideways, then fell from his back and rolled on the ground, to end up on her face in a patch of heather.
She tried to raise her head and a wave of giddy sickness hit her, so that for a minute or so she could only lie where she was until the wave went away. Then, close by, she heard the stamp of hooves. Lossie.
Terrified that she was about to be trampled on, Tamzin struggled to get up. But her legs felt like jelly and she thumped down again. A huge shape loomed against the darkening sky. Lossie was there. She saw his white blaze, his mane and tail streaming in the wind – and his coat had turned shockingly from chestnut to grey…
The landscape around her started to spin. She tried to make it stop, but it spun faster, swelling and fading.
And Tamzin fell back into the heather as she passed out.
The stable yard was a scene of confusion. There seemed to be horses and people everywhere. Tamzin’s pursuers had come back on their winded mounts, while other riders were getting ready to join the search party hastily organized by Mr and Mrs Richards. Torches flickered in the increasing gloom, and within a few more minutes the police would arrive to add to the hubbub.
Nan saw Joel and ran to intercept him. ‘Joel! Joel, I’ve got to talk to you!’
Joel stopped. ‘Mrs Weston – I’m looking for Marga. She knows Lossie best. She might have some idea where he’ll go. But I can’t find her anywhere!’
‘You won’t find her,’ said Nan grimly. She waved a rolled-up sheet of paper. ‘Joel, I know where Tamzin is.’
‘What?’ Joel’s eyes widened. ‘How?’
‘Look at this.’ Towing him towards the tack room, where there was more light, Nan unrolled the paper. It was Tamzin’s painting, showing the blue and grey horses facing each other on the dark clifftop.
‘I don’t understand…’ Joel’s face was blank.
‘That building, there.’ Nan stabbed a finger at the picture. ‘It looks like an old mine engine house.’
‘Yes, but –’
‘There’s one on the cliffs, isn’t there? About a mile down the coast.’
Joel shook his head. ‘What’s that got to do with Tamzin?’
‘Everything!’ Nan snapped. ‘Trust me, Joel. I know. You’ve got to take Moonlight and go after her. The search party won’t find Tamzin – but he will!’
‘I can’t ride him,’ said Joel. ‘He’s lame.’
‘Is he?’ Nan fixed him with a hard stare. ‘I don’t think so!’
Joel frowned, and his eyes lost their focus as if he was confused. ‘But I thought…’ he began.
Nan didn’t waste time but grabbed his arm again and hurried him to the stable.
Moonlight was agitated. When he saw them he whinnied loudly and shuffled round his loose-box, moving stiffly and holding one hind leg as though it hurt him.
Nan had a torch. She went straight to the white pony, lifted his hoof and shone a light on it. ‘Quickly!’ she snapped. ‘I need a hoof pick!’
Joel grabbed one from a nearby shelf and gave it to her. Nan’s hand moved – Moonlight seemed to understand that she was helping him, and kept perfectly still – and a few seconds later she straightened and held something out to Joel.
‘There’s the cause of the trouble,’ she said. ‘A stone in his hoof.’
‘I didn’t think to look…’ said Joel bewilderedly.
‘No, you didn’t, because Marga didn’t want you to. You’ve been fooled, Joel. But it isn’t your fault – power like Marga’s is very hard to resist.’
He blinked again. ‘Marga? Mrs Weston, what do you mea
n?’
‘Marga – Lossie,’ said Nan. ‘Or rather, Margh Los. It’s Cornish, Joel. It means Grey Horse.’
Before Joel could react, Moonlight let out another whinny, long and shrill, as if he was urging them not to waste time. He started to dance restlessly. And he was no longer limping.
Joel stared at Nan, and the spell that Marga had cast on him slid away, replaced by horrified understanding.
‘Hurry, Joel,’ Nan pleaded. ‘Before it’s too late!’
For a moment Joel stood rigid. Then he wrenched the loose-box door open. He was vaulting on to Moonlight’s back even as the white pony clattered outside. There was no time for bridle or saddle, and he didn’t need them.
‘Joel,’ Nan reached out and gripped his wrist. ‘Tamzin’s bracelet – Marga’s got it!’
‘Yes,’ said Joel harshly. ‘I know that now!’
‘You must get it back. It’s a talisman, it will protect you both!’
Joel nodded, once. Then people and ponies alike scurried out of the way as Moonlight galloped from the yard and towards the valley.
Nan stared after them until they were swallowed in the gathering darkness. When she could no longer even imagine that she saw them, she opened her hand and looked at the stone she had taken from Moonlight’s hoof. It was a strange stone: perfectly round; too perfect, in fact, to be natural.
And it was grey.
When Tamzin regained consciousness it was almost dark. Groggily she sat up, and the movement sent a thump of pain through her head, as if someone was hitting it with a hammer from the inside. She winced and cautiously touched the back of her skull. There was sticky wetness there. Blood… Her riding helmet had come off; she must have lost it as she fell and grazed herself. Her mind was still vague and muddled, and she tried to recall how she had fallen, and where, and why.
The memory came back with such a jolt that she almost cried out aloud. Lossie – he had bolted with her, carried her far from the stables on a reckless, headlong gallop, then thrown her off. Now she was alone in the gathering night, with no torch, no mobile, and no idea of where she was. And the only sound she could hear was the moan of the wind.
Tamzin stared around, hoping to see a distant glimmer of light; a house maybe, or car headlights on a road. But all her eyes made out was the stark silhouette of a ruined mine engine house some way off. Otherwise, the dark reached emptily away in every direction.
Slowly and awkwardly she climbed to her feet. The hammers thumped in her head again but she did her best to ignore them. She couldn’t stay here. She was stiff with cold already and if she didn’t find shelter she would probably get hypothermia. Which way to go, though? If she just blundered off into the night, she could make matters even worse and end up miles from anywhere.
She was still dithering about her direction when she heard a new sound mingling with the wind. It was a heavy noise, like a muffled thud. Then another, and another. Spiders seemed to crawl over Tamzin’s skin as she recognized what it was. Hoofbeats.
A tall, dim shape was forming in the gloom. Something pale flickered, as if someone was waving a white rag. Then the rag resolved into the outline of a horse’s white blaze, and Tamzin’s heart tried to rise up into her throat and suffocate her as Lossie, with Marga on his back, emerged from the darkness and stood facing her.
Marga did not look like Marga any more. Her hair, loosed from its plait, blew like pale smoke in the wind, and a wild light glared in her eyes. Her face – somehow Tamzin could see it, in spite of the dark – was warped into a look of pure, triumphant evil. And everything about her, and the creature she rode, was grey.
‘No…’ Tamzin raised both hands, uselessly trying to protect herself, and took a step backwards. Marga laughed a soft, horrible laugh. And Lossie started to approach Tamzin.
‘Don’t come near me! Leave me alone!’ Panic clawed at Tamzin and she took three more backward steps, stumbling and almost falling over. Lossie followed as Marga laughed again, and Tamzin knew she was trapped. She couldn’t outrun the horse and his rider.
She expected them to charge and attack her, but it seemed that they had other ideas. Lossie moved once more, forcing Tamzin to change direction, and she realized that they were driving her, making her go the way that they wanted her to. But where were they driving her? Where?
Abruptly, horribly, the answer came, as over the noise of the wind she heard a steadier, deeper roar. The sea – they were on the cliffs!
Tamzin hurled a frantic glance over her shoulder. The ruined engine house was much closer, and the ground behind it was a sharp, black outline, with empty sky above. She was no more than twenty metres from the edge.
She tried despairingly to change direction, to dodge, run, anything. But whatever she did, Marga and Lossie were always there before her, blocking her escape at every turn. Relentlessly they pushed her closer and closer to the cliff edge until, with no more than two metres of solid ground between Tamzin and a fatal fall, Lossie stopped.
The noise of the sea mingled with the noise of blood rushing in Tamzin’s head, but she clearly heard Marga’s cruel laugh.
‘There’s only one thing that can save you now,’ Marga called. She raised one arm and pointed to her other wrist, and Tamzin saw a glint of bright blue there. ‘Come and get your precious talisman,’ Marga taunted. ‘Or try!’
Tamzin’s mouth was so dry that it hurt. She could hardly breathe and she was far too terrified to move a muscle. The bracelet swung on Marga’s wrist, and the blue glass turned and writhed as if it was trying to break free from the chain.
‘Come on, Tamzin.’ Marga’s glittering eyes mocked her. ‘What’s the matter? You’re not afraid, are you?’
With the wind-torn clouds behind them, the horse and rider seemed to be changing, merging into a single, monstrous apparition, neither human nor animal. Lossie took a pace towards Tamzin, almost in slow motion, and Tamzin felt her own foot slide backwards. She couldn’t resist; couldn’t stop herself from backing away, closer to the cliff edge –
Shock hit her like an ice-cold slap as a shrill whinny rang from the darkness, and a pale shape came hurtling out of the night. Recognition slammed into her spinning mind in the split second before Moonlight, with Joel on his back, charged headlong at Lossie.
The white pony’s eyes were rolling and his nostrils flaring. Lossie swung on his haunches to meet the attack and the two horses clashed in a confusion of flailing hooves and savagely snapping teeth.
Marga was shrieking with rage. Joel was yelling too, gripping for dear life to Moonlight’s bare back, one hand tangled in his mane while the other snatched and clawed towards Marga. Tamzin’s glass talisman flashed on Marga’s arm; Joel was grabbing at it, trying to snatch it from her wrist –
Suddenly Lossie screamed, then reared and swung around in a single coiling movement. Sheer reflex made Tamzin fling herself aside as the great grey beast leaped into a standing gallop, heading straight for her. She hit the ground, and Lossie’s hooves thundered past ten centimetres from her head, with Moonlight right on his heels. Joel was still clinging on, and in horror Tamzin shrieked, ‘Joel, jump! JUMP!’
Whether he heard and understood or whether, like her, reflex took over, neither of them would ever know. But he flung himself from Moonlight’s back, twisting in the air and landing among heather and gorse an arm’s length from Tamzin. As he scrabbled to his feet, Tamzin cried out, ‘Moonlight! Moonlight!’ for the two horses were careering on. Dead ahead of them was a short, sharp slope – and then a vertical drop as the cliff fell away to the sea.
They were almost at the brink when Moonlight flung up his head and swerved aside. But Lossie did not swerve. He made no attempt at all to stop. Clutching at each other like a long-lost brother and sister, Tamzin and Joel watched in horror as the horse, with Marga urging him on, launched into a tremendous leap that carried them both off the cliff edge and out above the sea. For a heart-stopping instant they seemed to hang motionless in mid-air, silhouetted against the sky. The
n…
They were gone. They didn’t fall. They just vanished.
A wordless cry bubbled in Tamzin’s throat. She broke free from Joel and, ignoring his warning to be careful, ran to the cliff edge. Dropping to all fours, she stared down. Despite the darkness she could see the sea, a restless, heaving, moving mass far, far below. Surf showed white as waves broke against the rock face and surged around boulders and cave mouths. But there was no trace of Lossie and Marga.
Then she saw the grey wave. It was moving in the opposite direction to all the others, not pounding the coast but flowing steadily, powerfully out to sea. Its crest danced and writhed as though it had a life of its own. Then it faded into the darkness of the night, and was lost from view.
‘Tam…’ Joel was there, his hand on her shoulder, and Moonlight was with him, whickering and nuzzling at them both. The pony’s neck was flecked with sweat, and Tamzin didn’t know which one of them to hug first. They all moved back from the cliff edge, then abruptly Tamzin’s legs gave way under her and she sat down hard and unexpectedly on the turf.
Joel said shakily, ‘I’ve got something for you.’
‘Wh-what?’ She gazed up at him in confusion. He dropped to a crouch beside her. ‘Here,’ he said, and put something into her hand.
Moonlight gave another little whicker, as though encouraging Tamzin to look. Tamzin stared at her hand. Something shimmered in the darkness. Something blue.
‘My bracelet…’ She said it in a tone of wonder and disbelief and happiness all at once.
In the distance torches were bobbing, and agitated voices could faintly be heard against the sea’s sound. ‘It’s your Nan with the search party,’ Joel said softly. ‘She knew where to find you. She and Moonlight.’
Like another wave breaking, all the fear and tension in Tamzin snapped. She threw her arms around Moonlight’s warm, comforting neck, and burst into tears.
Hot chocolate had never tasted so wonderful. Tamzin sat on the sitting-room sofa, her dressing gown wrapped around her, and stared into the flames of the newly lit fire. She felt dreamy and a bit unreal, and only looked up when Nan came in.
Sea Horses: the Talisman Page 8