Read Chapter One — Free

Odin knocked frantically on the arched wooden door, overwhelmed with concern for his adorable Chocolate Labrador puppy, Jimbo. No response…

He rapped again as hard as possible when, suddenly, the door flung open with such force and determination that he lost his breath. An elderly man stood within the doorframe, wrinkled his already wrinkly nose, and inquired, “What on Earth is the matter, young man?” kind blue eyes protruding from their sockets.

“Sir, I am sorry to interrupt you,” mumbled Odin, trying to maintain his balance, pivoting on the cobblestone pathway outside the gentleman’s charming stone cottage.

Wearing a long white gown, the bottom of which hovered over his brown leather slippers, clenching a poplar staff taller than Odin, the gentleman replied, “There is no need to apologize. How can I help you?”

Swiftly lifting his gaze from the old man’s gown hem dancing in the breeze, Odin swallowed before mustering the confidence to fire out his words: “I can’t find Jimbo. I need to find Jimbo. I don’t even know where I am. Have you seen him?”

“I haven’t seen anyone for several blissful weeks. Anyway, who is Jimbo?”

“Jimbo’s my puppy”, replied Odin, his sullen face withholding tears.

“Ah, a puppy—you should have mentioned that much sooner. Step inside for a moment; I will help you.”

The gentleman turned and walked at a spritely pace down the warm wood-panelled hallway, his white gown and tweed overcoat dancing majestically in unison. Odin knew never to speak with a stranger, but he urgently required assistance to rescue Jimbo. Surely to goodness he could outrun an old man should an urgent escape be required…

Odin followed him as he waltzed through a creaky wooden door to the right into a small circular room packed with ancient books, crystals, and all kinds of fascinating curios. Odin’s breath was taken away once again, but this time by a pleasant, albeit unfamiliar, smoky haze. He looked at the desk only to observe a glass jar brimming with small golden yellow stones, herbs, and sparkling incense sticks.

“What is that?” inquired Odin.

“That is a magical, alchemical, herbal concoction—a recipe known only to yours truly and capable of feats unimaginable to the vast majority of humanity.”

“Is it good?” inquired Odin.

Turning towards the hand carved wooden table, he responded enthusiastically, “Oh, so very good, and even better under a full Moon! Right, let’s find Jimbo.”

“Do you need to see a photograph of him? I always carry my favourite Jimbo photograph right here in my satchel.”

Odin lifted the two worn brown leather straps, announced by their clasps’ familiar metal chink, shuffling through his school papers, as the gentleman spouted, “No photographs required. All I need is my ephemeris.”

Odin had no idea what an ephemeris was, but presumed it was a book of some description.

“Don’t just stand there; help an old chap out, would you?”

“Certainly! How can I help?” piped forth Odin with the enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old.

“You can search through those literary treasures while I prepare my incense,” said the old man, pointing to the biggest bookcase Odin had ever seen. “Shout out the word ‘horary’ the moment you discover my ephemeris.”

Rushing towards the table, anxious to find Jimbo, Odin heard a loose floorboard creek underfoot. “Sir, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why do we require your book to find Jimbo? He is lost in the woods.”

“Trust, trust! One earns a wrinkly nose and poplar walking staff through a lifelong quest for wisdom.”

Jumping onto a wooden stool to begin his search through the hardback treasures, Odin lifted the first book, calling out the author and title, “Ptlowmee— Tetra something.”

Slowly unwinding his herb jar’s metal lid, the old chap called in return, “Ptolemy—Tetrabiblios. A worthy read indeed.”

“Old Farmer’s Almanac,” chimed Odin.

“No, no, not that one. Here, let me look or we will be here until full Moon; far less conducive to rescuing Jimbo than our current waning Moon in Leo.” He proceeded towards the table; Odin still precariously perched on the wooden stool.

“That one there—the dark green one,” he yelped.

Odin carefully lifted the heavy green tome, stepping down from the stool. He carried the beautiful old book over to his new friend who was settling into his armchair, striking a match to light the slender ivory candles of his candelabra.

“Might I ask your name?” Odin inquired, handing over the book.

“You certainly may,” came the reply as his host’s fingers flicked rapidly through the crisp tobacco coloured pages.

Odin lapsed into a moment of awkward silence, unsure what to say next, when the gentleman tilted his head upwards slightly and said, “Well?” sparkling blue eyes peering over his circular, gold-framed spectacles.

“Uhm, sir, what is your name please?”

“None of your business,” came the reply with a humorous smirk. “Please pass me a sheet of blank paper and my pencil from over there.”

Odin rushed awkwardly over to the fireplace, picking up a beautifully waxed wooden clipboard, its clip firmly clasping blank paper and a pen.

“What is your name, young man?”

“My name is Odin”.

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Odin. Now, let’s get to work before your Jimbo gets into big trouble.”

He drew a large circle with his pencil, the grandfather clock’s tick-tock suddenly so much more noticeable.

“What are you doing?” asked Odin.

“I am drawing a chart of the planets in our solar system at this very moment. Correctly decoding the planets will reveal how to save Jimbo. This particular technique is known as ‘horary’. Our good creator made far more available to us than meets the eye.”

Odin felt he was in the middle of a surreal dream, but he had come this far and was not about to turn back.

“I am drawing a horizontal line across the circle, plus a vertical line down the middle. The circle depicts the space around our highly abused mother Earth. The top of the circle symbolizes the point overhead right now—it is named ‘the zenith’. The bottom corresponds with the point directly beneath the Earth should we drill a hole through the planet from this location.”

Odin was awestruck, mesmerised by the reassuring sounds of the ticking pendulum and crackling fireplace as the pencil swiftly formed beautiful symbols within the diagram.

“At nine o’clock of this circle, we have the point on the eastern horizon where the Sun rises each morning. The opposite point, the western horizon, resides at three o’clock. We further divide each of the four quadrants into three segments called ‘houses’. The first house anticlockwise, beginning with the eastern horizon, symbolizes you, Odin. The sixth house represents small animals.”

“But Jimbo is not small; he is a Chocolate Labrador,” chirped Odin.

“Is your Chocolate Labrador as big as a cow or a horse?” replied the old man.

“No,” stated Odin.

“Then he is a sixth house animal. Next, we must consider the signs of the zodiac and the planets that rule them. We are only interested in the first and sixth houses—you and Jimbo.”

“What is the zodiac?” asked Odin.

“The zodiac is an invisible belt of twelve equal segments around the Earth,” he answered, slowly savouring the freshly lit incense. “Now pay attention—I am using the ephemeris to know where each planet in our solar system is currently positioned. The ephemeris details the very predictable planetary movements day by day.”

Odin nodded obediently as if he fully understood what he was witnessing.

“The sign of the zodiac on the cusp of the sixth house is Scorpio which is most fitting as it is intense and delving in nature just like troublesome young Jimbo when he ran off into the woods. Scorpio is ruled by the planet Mars, who takes a little less than two years to orbit the Sun and move through the zodiac. Planets function differently depending on where they reside within the zodiac. Mars is currently in the sign Libra where he is utterly rudderless like disoriented Jimbo. Fortunately for you, although Mars (Jimbo) is in Libra, like a fish out of water, he is about to enter his own sign of Scorpio. This will put him in far better condition, indicating that young Jimbo will be rescued. The Moon’s favourable aspect to Venus is another encouraging sign.”

“I hoped so,” asserted Odin, eyes wide open with fascination.

“You yourself are described by the sign of the zodiac Cancer currently rising on the eastern horizon. The Moon rules the sign Cancer. It is an active sign, high in anxiety, but intelligent and deeply caring when well-adjusted. And here you are—terrified for your treasured puppy.”

Transfixed, Odin prayed that this fascinating old chap was about to solve the puzzle. His heart pounded in anticipation as the grandfather clock seemed to chime for the verdict.

“Right now, Mars is at twenty-nine degrees and twenty-nine zodiacal minutes of Libra, with only thirty-one zodiacal minutes before returning home to Scorpio. Mars does not enjoy Libra, especially the later degrees, so poor little Jimbo is certainly feeling desperately lost and anxious to find his master. What time did you lose him?”

“Exactly sixteen minutes ago,” replied Odin, glancing at his vintage Casio wristwatch.

“Sixteen minutes ago, eh? Thirty-one minus sixteen equals fifteen. You will find Jimbo within thirty-one minutes; I suspect he will be in your arms in fifteen.”

“But how will I know where to go?” asked Odin.

“The Sun reached his highest point above at solar noon, 11:51 a.m. this morning, disappearing over the western horizon at 4:40 p.m. Just as he heralds the dawn, the Moon reigns at night. She lights the path and leads the way when visible overhead, but right now she is also below the horizon. You will need my trusty torch and compass.”

Odin’s eyes welled up with tears at the thought of his beloved puppy lost and terrified in the dark woods. He often felt lost and alone in the world himself. Looking into the gentleman’s kind eyes, Odin’s heart was comforted and his mind reassured; maybe the universe’s invisible forces of goodness had conspired to rescue his perfect puppy.

“Jimbo is symbolized by Mars, currently beneath the Earth in the fifth house of our chart. Guided by my compass and torch, you will walk to the north-west. Call for Jimbo as you proceed. It is time to go. Two minutes have passed. You could rescue him in thirteen minutes. Come with me.”

Odin hastily followed in his footsteps as he shuffled from the circular room back into the wood-panelled hallway towards the front door. Carefully examining the timeless gold-plated compass under torchlight, Odin turned to the north, feeling the gentle touch of the old gentleman’s hand nudging a little on his right shoulder. He responded by turning a little to the left.

“Perfect! Walk and start calling for Jimbo.”

Desperate to recover Jimbo, Odin walked forwards forgetting to say another word. Once well in the distance, the elderly gentleman shouted, “Arthur—my name is Arthur.”

Odin began calling for Jimbo, raising his right arm, waving a little to acknowledge the old man’s call. He stepped over fallen tree limbs, maintaining his balance and direction, calling out, “Jimbo, Jimbo, come to Daddy. Jimbo, Jimbo, Daddy is here. Daddy is going to rescue you.”

His desperate search along the ancient footpath through the dark woodland felt like an eternity. Bone dry leaves and twigs crunched underfoot, accompanied by an eerie chorus of birds, insects, and wild animals.

Suddenly, there was Jimbo, a little bundle of curious brown fluff bathed in torchlight sitting beneath a tall tree with a large pinecone in his mouth. Odin kneeled in the crisp foliage, extending his arms to Jimbo, who jumped instinctively into his master’s embrace, just as a flower reaches for the Sun. They were both consumed with unconditional love.

Odin glanced at his watch. It was precisely thirty-one minutes after Jimbo had gone missing. The crisis was over. Odin and Jimbo were reunited. All was well thanks to Arthur and the planets in the heavens above.

Little did Odin know; far greater perils lay ahead…