Sea Horses: the Talisman Read online

  Born in Hertfordshire, England, on 29 May 1952, Louise Cooper describes herself as ‘a typical scatterbrained Gemini’. She spent most of her school years writing stories when she should have been concentrating on lessons, and her first fantasy novel, The Book of Paradox, was published in 1973, when she was just twenty years old. Since then she has published more than sixty books for adults and children.

  Louise now lives in Cornwall with her husband, Cas Sandall. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys singing (and playing various instruments), cooking, gardening, ‘messing about on the beach’ and – just to make sure she keeps busy – is also treasurer of her local Royal National Lifeboat Institution branch.

  Visit Louise at her own web site at

  www.louisecooper.com

  In the same series

  Sea Horses

  Louise Cooper

  PUFFIN

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  www.penguin.com

  First published 2004

  5

  Copyright © Louise Cooper, 2004

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN: 978-0-14-193960-5

  ‘There is a legend,’ said Nan quietly, ‘about two spirits that once haunted this coast. They were known as the Blue Horse and the Grey Horse, and they came from the sea. The Blue Horse brought fair weather, and protected the sailors and fishermen. But the Grey Horse was cruel. He brought storms and treacherous tides, and took delight in wrecking ships and drowning the men on board.

  ‘At last, the two spirits fought a terrible battle. There were gales and huge, raging tides, and the people of the coast were terrified that the Grey Horse would win and destroy them all. But one fisherman’s family was not afraid. They joined forces with the Blue Horse and between them they overcame the Grey Horse and defeated him.

  ‘When the battle was over and the people were safe, an old, wise woman of the fisherman’s family carved a little stone statue. The evil power of the Grey Horse was imprisoned in the statue, and the family pledged to keep it for always.’ Nan turned a piercing gaze on Tamzin. ‘They were our ancestors. And the legend says that if the statue should ever be broken, the dark spirit will be released again.’

  Silence fell. Then, in a quavering voice, Tamzin whispered, ‘And I broke it…’

  From the clifftop road, the view stretched away down the coast as far as St Ives. This wonderful scenery with its huge skies was one of the things Tamzin Weston loved best about Cornwall. And to see it from horseback on a gloriously sunny winter day was best of all.

  The brisk clip-clip of Moonlight’s hooves echoed from the rising ground to Tamzin’s left as she rose to his lively trot. Moonlight was almost pure white with just a hint of dapple grey, and he was Tamzin’s favourite of all the ponies at the Richards’ riding stable. As they came to a bend Tamzin held him on a light rein, watching the road ahead between his eagerly pricked ears. Hardly any cars came along at this time of year, when there weren’t any holidaymakers, but as her friend Joel, the Richards’ son, said, you couldn’t be too careful. The road straightened out again; she glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Joel, on bay Pippin, was a long way behind. Pippin was a lazy pony. He never trotted when he could walk, and he wouldn’t walk if he thought he could get away with stopping to graze.

  ‘Whoa, Moonlight!’ She tugged gently on the reins, pull and slacken, to let Moonlight know what she wanted, and obediently he slowed to a walk and then stopped.

  Joel dug his heels into Pippin’s sides, and the bay pony broke into a sort of reluctant waddle. It looked so comical that Tamzin was giggling helplessly by the time Joel caught up with her.

  ‘It’s all right for you to laugh,’ Joel growled as Pippin stopped and began to snatch greedily at the grass verge. ‘You try making him do anything he doesn’t want to!’

  She grinned. ‘Sorry. He just looks funny when he goes like that. He’s so fat.’

  ‘That’s why he’s got to be exercised. Get some weight off him before the holiday season, or we’ll have customers complaining because he gives them such a boring ride. Come hup, Pippin, you greedyguts!’ Joel pulled the pony away from his meal, then squinted at the sun, which was dropping towards the horizon. ‘I suppose we’d better head back home. School tomorrow.’ He pulled a face. ‘So what with the dark evenings, we won’t get any more chances for riding till next weekend.’

  ‘I don’t mind school,’ Tamzin said.

  ‘You’re still at the one in the village. Just wait till next year, when you have to go all the way to Truro every day. Doesn’t leave time for anything.’

  ‘But I won’t be here then,’ Tamzin reminded him. ‘Mum and Dad will be home from Canada in September, so I won’t be living at my nan’s any more.’ Her face clouded. ‘I won’t even be in Cornwall.’

  Joel blinked. ‘So you won’t. I’d forgotten. Funny; it seems like you’ve always lived here and always will. But it’s only for a year, isn’t it?’

  She nodded. ‘And nearly two months have gone already.’

  ‘Well, that means there are still ten more to go, doesn’t it? Anyway, we break up for the Christmas holidays soon and after that there’ll be spring, and then the whole summer. Don’t get down about it, Tam.’

  ‘I’m not really. I mean, it’ll be wonderful to see Mum and Dad again. I do miss them.’ Tamzin looked out towards the shining sea. ‘But going back to the city, after this…’ Suddenly she glanced at him. ‘Joel… do you think there’s time to go to the beach before we ride home?’

  Joel’s eyes narrowed. ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘Well… It’s nearly low tide. I just thought it would be nice.’ But Tamzin’s cheeks had reddened and she didn’t meet his eyes. Joel sighed. He knew why she wanted to go to the beach. Why she always wanted to go.

  ‘Tam,’ he said, ‘you’re never going to find it. And even if you did, it wouldn’t mean anything.’

  Tamzin bit her lip. They had had this argument so many times, and every time it happened Joel insisted more stubbornly that he was right. But he wasn’t right. Tamzin knew, deep down inside herself, that finding it did matter, far more than even she knew yet.

  Finding it: a fragment of grey stone with a red, ruby-like chip set into it. It had come from a small stone statue of a rearing horse that had been in Chapel Cottage, Nan’s house, for hundreds of years. Tamzin had broken it and had impulsively thrown that one piece – part of the horse’s head
– into the sea. And if it was not found, then the dark, ancient power that had been locked up in the statue could awaken and bring disaster, as it had done centuries ago.

  The power of the Grey Horse…

  Joel said, ‘Look, Tam, I know you believe that the Grey Horse is real, but –’

  ‘It is!’ Tamzin insisted. ‘I saw it that night, in the cave.’

  ‘You mean you think you did,’ Joel argued. ‘But in the dark, with the waves coming in – you were scared out of your mind. Anyone would have been. And when people are scared their imaginations can go crazy. The sea was the danger, Tam. Not the Grey Horse. There’s no such thing.’

  ‘But you saw it too,’ cried Tamzin. ‘At the stable, when Moonlight bolted – you told me!’

  ‘I know, I know. I thought I saw it, but…’ Joel looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, it was dark and I was confused… And later, on the beach, I was frightened too – I mean, I thought you were going to be killed! But afterwards, once you were safe and I had time to think sensibly…’ He shrugged, as if he was apologizing. ‘It was all our imaginations. The Grey Horse can’t possibly exist, not in the real world.’

  Tamzin opened her mouth to argue but stopped as she realized that there was no point in going over this yet again. Joel had made up his mind that the events of that terrifying October night had been nothing more than a risky escapade. Moonlight had got out of his stable and run away to the beach, they had gone after him, and Tamzin had been trapped in a cave by the tide and nearly drowned. Joel insisted, now, that that was the whole story.

  But Tamzin knew he was wrong.

  ‘Look,’ Joel went on when she didn’t speak, ‘I don’t think you’ll ever find the piece of the statue and I don’t think it matters a bit. Anyway, we’ve got stable chores when we get back – if we go to the beach first it’ll be dark by the time we’ve finished.’ He paused. ‘Come on, Tam. There isn’t time; I’m not just saying it.’

  He was trying to smooth over the awkwardness between them, and Tamzin nodded. ‘OK. You’re right.’ She looked at him through her hair. ‘But I won’t give up searching for it. I can’t give up.’

  Joel shrugged but said nothing, and they rode on.

  The Richards’ riding stables were at the head of a long valley that ran between heather-and gorse-covered cliffs to the beach and the sea. Chapel Cottage, where Tamzin’s nan lived, was halfway down the valley, and getting home from the stables took less than ten minutes.

  Dusk was falling as Tamzin said goodbye to Joel and his parents and set off. Walking always seemed strange after an hour or two on horseback. Her legs weren’t used to it and she felt as if she was much too close to the ground. Today though, she hardly noticed, for the clash with Joel had upset her and brought back all the frustrations of trying and failing to make him understand about the Grey Horse and the danger it represented.

  How could she have imagined that phantom monster, with its steely eyes and seaweed mane and the cold light flickering around it? She had faced the Grey Horse and it had almost killed her. Joel might have chosen to hide from the truth by shutting it out of his mind. But she knew that the Grey Horse was still out there somewhere, waiting for a chance to strike again.

  A chilly shiver went through her, and she looked back quickly, half fearing that she would see a silent shadow moving after her along the path. Nothing was there, but all the same Tamzin reached quickly to her right wrist. Her fingers closed on something smooth and cold, and relief took the inner chill away. The fragment of blue glass, gracefully curved, that she had found in the cave that night… Nan had had the fragment attached to a silver chain bracelet, and Tamzin never took the bracelet off. For the glass was her talisman; a gift, she believed, from the Blue Horse, a benevolent spirit and the Grey Horse’s ancient enemy. The Blue Horse watched over her and would protect her if it could.

  But in her heart Tamzin knew that she would never be truly safe until the missing piece of the little horse statue was found, and the figure made whole again…

  Suddenly the chilly feeling came back and she broke into a run. She could see the slate roof of Chapel Cottage ahead of her, half hidden in a fold of the valley, and she sprinted faster, finally arriving breathless at the garden gate. There were lights in the downstairs windows and smoke curled up from the chimney, showing that Nan had already lit the sitting-room fire. Tamzin felt a surge of comfort, and hurried through the garden and in at the back door, kicking her riding boots off on the mat. The kitchen was bright and warm. From the oven came a delicious smell, and Baggins, Nan’s fluffy black cat, meowed a greeting from where he sprawled on his favourite old chair.

  ‘Tamzin?’ came Nan’s voice from another room. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Yes, Nan,’ Tamzin called back.

  Nan appeared in the doorway. She was a professional artist and had obviously been working in her studio, for she was wearing jeans and a baggy old smock so covered with paint marks that it was impossible to tell what colour it should have been. She wiped her hands on an equally painty rag and pushed back her piled-up black hair, which was coming undone as usual.

  ‘I’m glad you’re home before dark,’ she said. ‘The light goes so early now it’s December.

  Did you have a nice afternoon?’

  ‘Lovely, thanks.’ Tamzin didn’t mention the argument with Joel. ‘Have you been painting?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll stop now. I can never get the colours right in electric light.’ Nan nodded at the oven. ‘My special spiced chicken for dinner. Baggins has been drooling since I put it in the oven.’

  ‘Mmm!’ Tamzin, and Baggins, loved Nan’s spiced chicken. ‘I’d better go and have a shower. I smell all horsey.’

  Nan laughed. ‘There are plenty worse things to smell of! Go on, then. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.’

  Tamzin ran upstairs to her bedroom where she dumped her jacket and sweater. About to head for the bathroom, she paused suddenly, looking at a painting that hung on the wall. There were a lot of pictures in her room but this one stood out. Nan had painted it years ago, and it showed a white horse with a long mane and tail, emerging at a flying gallop from the sea. It was a night scene with a full moon high in the sky, and though the horse was white the moonlight made its coat look blue.

  Tamzin smiled to herself and her unease faded away. Even if Joel couldn’t face the truth, Nan knew and understood. This painting and the bracelet were her way of helping Tamzin to find the Blue Horse. She would. She would. And when she did, the Grey Horse’s dark power would be defeated again, and everything would be all right.

  She blew a quick kiss to the painting and hurried to the bathroom for her shower.

  Joel might have grumbled about school, but Tamzin enjoyed it. And at the end of this term there was a special event to look forward to.

  Every year, just before Christmas the school held a sale of arts and crafts created by the pupils, and each class gave the money they made to a chosen charity. This year Tamzin’s class were supporting an animal sanctuary and they had all been busy making animal-themed things to sell. To everyone’s delight a visit to the sanctuary itself had been arranged for the coming Wednesday, and at half-past nine the class gathered outside the school, where a minibus was waiting.

  Tamzin found a window seat near the back and started to sort through the sketchbook and pencils she had brought with her. She was painting and drawing animals, and horses in particular, for the Christmas sale, and was surprised by how well some of them had turned out. Nan was very encouraging and said she had real talent, so today Tamzin thought she might try and sketch some of the animals at the sanctuary.

  She was looking at some of her newest drawings when a voice said, ‘Hi. Is it OK if I sit with you?’

  Tamzin looked up. A girl with very long, blonde hair that she wore in a single plait was standing in the aisle. Her name was Marga. Her family had just moved to the area and she had only started at the school last week. Tamzin hadn’t really talked to her yet, but now she sm
iled and replied, ‘Sure.’

  Marga flopped on to the seat beside her, then saw the drawings.

  ‘Are these what you’re doing for the sale?’ she asked. ‘They’re really great!’

  ‘Thanks!’ Tamzin glowed with pleasure, then added truthfully, ‘I get a lot of help from my nan, though. She’s a professional artist.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve heard about her. You live in the valley near the beach, don’t you?’ Marga didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I wish I could draw, but I’m hopeless,’ she went on, then grinned. ‘Maybe I should get you to draw a picture of Lossie.’

  ‘Lossie?’

  ‘My pony.’

  Tamzin’s eyes lit up. ‘You’ve got your own pony? Oh, you’re so lucky!’

  ‘I suppose I am. Do you ride?’

  ‘Yes – well, I’m learning, anyway. I help at the stables at the top of the valley, in exchange for lessons. But I’d love to have a pony of my own. Where do you keep… Lossie, is it?’

  ‘At home. We live a bit outside the village and I haven’t really got to know anyone yet.’ Marga paused, then confided, ‘It’s great to meet someone else who loves horses.’

  The minibus set off, and the two girls settled down to talk horses. Tamzin told Marga about all the riding-stable ponies, and Moonlight in particular; and Marga told Tamzin more about Lossie who, she said, was chestnut with a white blaze down his face. She had trained him herself, she added proudly, and had ridden him in several shows and gymkhanas.

  ‘I’ve never even been to a gymkhana,’ Tamzin said wistfully.

  ‘They’re brilliant,’ said Marga. ‘Someone ought to organize one round here – we could go in for it together; me on Lossie and you on Moonlight. Wouldn’t that be great?’

  Tamzin wasn’t sure that she was a good enough rider yet to enter a gymkhana. But the idea appealed all the same, and her eyes lit up. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, it would!’

  The day at the sanctuary was unforgettable. There were so many animals to see and make a fuss of, and Tamzin was thrilled to find several heavy horses among them. At first she was afraid to get too close, but the sanctuary manager laughed kindly and said, ‘Don’t worry, they’re gentle giants. Rub their noses and give them a few pieces of carrot, and they’ll do anything for you.’