THE 1ST VOYAGE OF SINBAD: THE WATERS OF ZEMZEM, an 85,000 word Adult-YA crossover fantasy.
The Waters of Zemzem shall hold Al-Dajjal until the crownless king, born of two hearts, comes forth from the darkness out of the west.
This mysterious prophecy is at the heart of an origin story of Sinbad the Sailor: a tale of a poor young servant who battled an evil sorcerer and all the wonders of magic before he went on to become the most celebrated mariner in the history of the world.
Sinbad, 18, looks after his blind older brother, Nebu, and works in a shop that sells charts to places all over the world. One day, a strange prince arrives seeking a chart to the legendary island of Babil, where the magical Waters of Zemzem hold back the evil King of the Jinn. The greedy shopkeeper agrees to sell the prince the chart, and Nebu, whom the shopkeeper believes is connected to a prophecy about the Waters. But wanting secrecy, the prince kills the shopkeeper, takes the chart, and abducts Nebu, launching Sinbad on a desperate quest to save his brother and stop the prince from unleashing the evil King of the Jinn.
THE 1ST VOYAGE OF SINBAD: THE WATERS OF ZEMZEM, an 85,000 word Adult-YA crossover fantasy.
The Waters of Zemzem shall hold Al-Dajjal until the crownless king, born of two hearts, comes forth from the darkness out of the west.
This mysterious prophecy is at the heart of an origin story of Sinbad the Sailor: a tale of a poor young servant who battled an evil sorcerer and all the wonders of magic before he went on to become the most celebrated mariner in the history of the world.
Sinbad, 18, looks after his blind older brother, Nebu, and works in a shop that sells charts to places all over the world. One day, a strange prince arrives seeking a chart to the legendary island of Babil, where the magical Waters of Zemzem hold back the evil King of the Jinn. The greedy shopkeeper agrees to sell the prince the chart, and Nebu, whom the shopkeeper believes is connected to a prophecy about the Waters. But wanting secrecy, the prince kills the shopkeeper, takes the chart, and abducts Nebu, launching Sinbad on a desperate quest to save his brother and stop the prince from unleashing the evil King of the Jinn.
During the time of the great Abbasid Caliphate, in the latter part of the eighth century, there lived a twelve-year-old boy named Sinbad. Now we know him as the famous sailor who traveled the world on marvelous voyages, but at this point in his life he was just a quiet boy with a vivid imagination who loved his father, Amir, his older brother, Nebu, and everything to do with the sea.
For the last seven years, they had lived on a beach along the Arabian coast in a small stone cottage they had built themselves in what was a humble and hard existence. The nearest village was ten miles away and there were no other children around for the boys to play with. Not that it mattered much to Sinbad. He truly loved living by the sea and didnât mind the isolation. He had his brother as a constant companion and his studies to keep him busy, spending most of his time learning languages taught to him by his scholarly father. He had already mastered seven of the eight languages spoken by Amir and was now working on the eighth, Sanskrit. Of all the languages Sinbad spoke, he found Sanskrit the most challenging, and despite working hard at it all morning, he had only managed to complete half of todayâs lesson, which called for translating a story about the Waters of Zemzem from Sanskrit to Arabic, his native tongue. Now it was noon, and he was tired and fed up and wanted nothing more than to crumple up the assignment and throw it away.
He read over another line of the poetic Sanskrit, dipped his pen in his ink, and knocked over the bowl, spilling the rich black liquid all over the table.
âOh, no,â Sinbad cried.
He snatched up his work and shook off the ink, but it was too lateâthe translation was ruined. Now heâd have to start all over again. He tossed the ruined scroll onto the table in disgust, went to the open door, and looked out at the sea. Near the horizon a large dhow with two triangular sails was heading east toward the Indian Ocean, slicing through the water with a trail of foam in her wake. Sinbad could just make out her white lateen sails and several crewmen on deck. He looked with envy at the sailors on board the ship, wondering what distant lands and exotic ports they might visit and about the dangers they might face on the open sea. It must be wonderful to be a sailor, where each new day brought the promise of adventure. He watched the ship disappear into a bank of clouds and stared after her for a time after she was gone. More than anything in the world, he wished he could join them.
âSinbad,â he heard his brother cry. âSinbad, help!â
Sinbad stepped out and looked around the corner of the small stone cottage at his older brother, Nebu, a few yards away, hanging upside down in the apple tree that overshadowed their home. He smiled at his brotherâs antics and strolled over.
âAll right, now what are you up to? Câmon, Nebu, get down, youâre going to hurt yourself.â
âI wonât get hurt. I could hang here all day,â Nebu said.
Nebu had his arms and legs wrapped around a branch, and he let go with one hand and then the other in rapid succession, catching himself each time before he could fall.
âWell, if you can hang there all day, then why did you call for help?â
âBecause I want to get down. I climbed up here to get some apples, but now I feel dizzy, and I canât really tell how far I am from the ground.â
Nebu turned toward Sinbad and looked straight past him as if he wasnât there, his big brown eyes just staring blankly into space, for as fate would have it, Nebu was blind and had been since birth.
âYouâre not very high. Youâre just over my head. If you lower yourself, you can get onto my shoulders.â
Sinbad positioned himself directly under Nebu.
âAll right, come down slowly, donât just drop on me. Youâre too heavy.â
âIâm not heavy. Youâre just skinny,â Nebu said. Nebu lowered himself onto his brotherâs shoulders, and Sinbad stepped away from the tree.
âHey, wait! What about my apples? Iâm still hungry.â
âYouâre always hungry,â Sinbad said as he moved over to a branch loaded with fruit. âOkay, thereâs a branch right over your head. Itâs got tons of apples. Just reach up and grab it.â
Nebu took hold of the branch and gave it a shake, and a dozen ripe apples fell, bombarding the brothers, who staggered around laughing with apples bouncing off their heads.
A short time later, Sinbad and Nebu were out on the beach in front of the cottage facing the sea and the crashing surf. The weather was calm and the winds were light on what was a perfect summer day. They had taken off their shirts and gone for a swim and were now sitting in the sand, eating the apples. Both boys were as brown as hazelnuts from their Arabic and Indian heritage and the long summer days in the sun. Of the two, Sinbad was the more handsome, with striking dark features and jet-black hair, while Nebu was not so much handsome as manly, and much taller and heavier than Sinbad. They were a couple of fine-looking boys, and despite their differences, to look at them was to know straight off that they had to be brothers.
Nebu leaned back in the sand and held out an apple to Sinbad.
 âHey, tell me something. What do your eyes see when you look at an apple?â
Sinbad had been gazing out at the sea rather absently, lulled into a daydream by the crashing surf. He turned to Nebu, who was feeling the apple as if he could unlock the mystery of its nature with his fingertips. Sinbad had never given an apple much thought before, but thatâs how it was with Nebu. He was always posing questions that caused Sinbad to take a fresh look at things or look more closely at something he took for granted.
âWell, letâs seeâitâs round and smooth, and it shines a little, but mostly itâs just red.â
âRed,â Nebu repeated. âTell me about red.â
Sinbad knew he could never convey the true nature of a color to a boy who lived in a world of perpetual darkness, but still, he would try.
âRed is like . . .â Sinbad thought for a moment, â . . . like the morning sun on your face or a hot meal in your belly or how you feel when youâre boiling mad, like when you tried for hours to catch a fish only to have some nasty bird swoop down and steal it away.â
Nebu nodded as if gaining an understanding of the color when Sinbad added softly, âOr it can be warm and soft, like a motherâs embrace.â
âReally?â Nebu asked, a bit surprised. âYou remember Motherâs embrace?â
âYeah, a little bit.â
âWell, thatâs something, isnât it? You were so young I didnât know you remembered her at all.â
âI donât, not much, just a few thingsâher face, her tucking me in at night, the smell of her hair, stuff like that. But what does it matter? I thought you wanted to know about red.â
âI do, absolutely,â Nebu said. He smelled the apple and turned it over in his hand. âSo red is all this?â
âAnd more,â Sinbad said. âItâs also fire, temper, and passion.â
âPassion,â Nebu scoffed. âWhat do you know about passion? Youâre only twelve.â
âOh, and I suppose you know so much more at fourteen. Donât forget, Father makes me read a lot, and youâd be shocked to learn whatâs in some of those translations.â
âYeah, right,â Nebu said skeptically. âWhen was the last time you even saw a girl?â
âLast year, in the village, there were lots of girls.â
âDid you talk to any?â
âNoâand neither did you.â
âHow do you know? You went off on your own. I talked to a couple of girls when Father and I were in the market buying ink for you.â
âSo, you talked to two girls, big deal,â Sinbad said. âWhat difference does that make? Iâve seen plenty of girls, more than you. Thatâs for sure.â
âHa-ha . . . Very funny, Sinbad.â
âI didnât mean it like that, and you know it.â
Nebu wasnât at all bothered by his brotherâs accidental jibe. He knew Sinbad wasnât mocking him; that was the last thing he would do. He sat up with his blind eyes facing the sea, still pondering the color red, then nodded as if he had reached a conclusion and declared firmly, âWell, if red is all that you say it is, then I think for sure, itâs settledâred is my favorite color.â
Nebu took a bite of the apple and grinned at Sinbad.
* * *
Just prior to sunset Sinbadâs father returned home after fishing all day. Lately all the fishing spots close to the cottage seemed to have been vacated of fish, so Amir had decided to try his luck farther down the coast. It had required a day-long trip to an isolated cove several miles away. In the past the little cove had always provided plenty of fish, but today that was unfortunately not the case. As Amir approached his home through the light brush on the beach, he had only a couple of small ponyfish tied to a string to show for his efforts. For whatever reason old Father Neptune continued to withhold the great bounty of the sea. But such dry spells were common for an experienced fisherman like Amir, and he was already planning to return to the cove the following day.
At thirty-five, Amir was a man of medium height and medium build, well-mannered and well-educated, who took pride in his good word, if not his station in life. A dark beard covered half his face, and with his hard, deep-set eyes, he presented a rather stern appearance. There was nothing in his looks or manner, which was often abrupt with strangers, to suggest he was a man of strong sensitivities, a generous man who was gentle with animals and completely devoted to the welfare of his two sons. When he came through the open door of the cottage, he found Sinbad sitting alone, cleaning the ink-stained table with a rag.
âWhereâs your brother?â Amir asked.
âI donât know. I left him on the beach an hour ago,â Sinbad said casually and he went on scrubbing the stain.
Amir turned and looked out at the beach. There, a hundred feet away, he saw Nebu sitting in the sand with his arms around his knees, facing the sea, his curly black hair filled with a breeze.
âIâd prefer it if you didnât leave him alone.â
âWhy? Heâs not helpless. Heâs almost fifteen.â
âI know what he is, and he needs his brother,â Amir replied with his eyes fixed on Nebu.
Amir placed his fishing pole against the wall and laid the two fish on the table, taking note of the ink-stained mess.
âWhat happened here?â
âI knocked over my ink bowl again,â Sinbad muttered as he went on scrubbing the stain.
Amir picked up the ruined scroll and looked it over, then set it down without a word.
âIâll redo it tonight,â Sinbad added.
âDonât bother. Do it tomorrow. Iâm going back to the cove again to see if I can change my luck. Apparently, neither of us had a very productive day.â
Sinbad looked down at the two small fish laid out on the table, at their cold black eyes staring up at him as if he were an accomplice to murder. The bright silver fish with orange tails were certainly delicious but too small to provide a decent meal for two hungry boys and a grown man. Amir walked up behind Sinbad and patted him on the shoulder with the sentiment that it was all okayânot just the ruined lesson and the bad day of fishing, but all of it, their tough luck and their hard life in general. He removed a goatskin water pouch slung from his shoulder and hung it on a post then sat down on his cot, bone-tired. He looked around at the crumbling stone walls and dirt floor of the tiny cottage, at Sinbadâs ragged clothes and worn sandals, and the two measly fish for dinner, and it pained him, the poverty of it all.
âIâm sorry about this, son,â Amir said.
âAbout what?â Sinbad asked, not at all sure what his father was talking about.
But Amir didnât bother to explain. He just sat there with a grim look, dwelling on his troubles and his immutable past. Sinbad put down the rag and turned in his chair, concerned about his father.
âEight languages I know, for what?â Amir said. âThereâs not a court in the Caliphate where I can show my face, and there isnât a sultan or prince within a thousand miles who will hire me for fear of my enemies. So my destiny is this.â
Amir gestured at their paltry surroundings.
 âThere was a time in my life when I was an important man, a respected scholar. Sultans and kings sought my advice, and I was welcome at courts all over the world. And now . . . Now I am welcome nowhere, and the only thing Iâm good for is to fish and hunt rabbits and teach you what I know.â
He looked at Sinbad and the scroll linking the two.
âI appreciate everything, Father, honest, I do,â Sinbad said. âIâm proud that I know so many languages, and I may complain a lot, but I like my studies.â
âNo, you donât,â Amir said flatly.
Sinbad was surprised by his fatherâs candid remark, and his guilty expression caused Amir to smile.
âI donât know what youâre going to be, son, but one thing is certainâyou wonât be a scribe.â
âWhat I want to be is a . . . .â Sinbad caught himself before he slipped and revealed a desire heâd kept hidden from both his father and Nebu.
âGo on. What?â Amir said. âIf you could be anything in the world, what would it be?â
Sinbad held back for a moment, then, emboldened by his fatherâs invitation to hear what was in his heart, he gave voice for the first time to his secret dream.
âI would like to be a great merchant, a sea captain who travels the world!â
Amir took the revelation in stride and nodded as if he understood the reasonableness of Sinbadâs choice.
âIn my time, Iâve known many a rich man who has acquired his fortune from across the sea, and I canât ever recall meeting an old sailor who would have chosen a different profession. Still, fortunes are not made on desire alone. There needs to be opportunity, training, and dedication to the trade.â
âI study the tides and the weather all the time,â Sinbad said. âI always know when a storm is coming. And whenever we go to the village and Iâm off on my own, I go to the old marinerâs shop and talk to him about sailing and the ways of the sea. Iâve learned a lot.â
âHave you now? All under my nose,â Amir said kindly.
Sinbad smiled.
âItâs not that I donât want to be a scribe, Father, but itâs just that ever since I can remember, Iâve always loved the sea. I donât know why, but for some reason I feel drawn to it.â
Sinbad looked out at the ocean.
âI want to know whatâs out there beyond the horizon.â
Amir could tell Sinbad was sincere, and it touched him in a meaningful way. He thought it poignant that his son had kept this dream all to himself. He believed it revealed something admirable about his character and he felt compelled to offer some encouragement.
âSo all this time youâve been in love with the sea, but you havenât spoken of it until now. I like that. A man who can keep a secret is a man to be trusted.â
Amir pointed at Sinbad, identifying him as such a man.
âBut Iâm glad you told me,â he went on. âOf course, you must continue your studies, but weâll see what we can do about furthering your dreams. Perhaps itâs time we acquired a boat.â
âOh, that would be wonderful! I could learn to sail, and we could fish out to sea. Surely, weâll catch more than a couple of fish if weâre out on the ocean.â
âYes, I know. Iâve been thinking about it, especially on days like today. But boats are expensive, and I donât have the skill to build one, certainly not one I would trust on the open sea. So we must make our plans. You keep to your studiesâeven a sailor can benefit from an educationâand Iâll see what I can do about getting us a boat.â
âOh, thatâs great news. I canât wait to tell Nebu.â
âNo, donât, not just yet. Letâs wait until we can buy a boat, and then weâll tell your brother. Sometimes Nebu is sensitive about such things and thinks heâs holding us back. If we donât get the boat, heâll only blame himself, and thereâs no need for that. For now, weâll just keep it between us, all right?â
âYes, of course,â Sinbad said.
âAnd as for you, just bear up as best you can, be patient, and carry on with your studies. Do whatâs in front of you, what needs doing, but no matter what, never let go of your dreams.â
* * *
Later that evening, Sinbad was out on the beach in front of a fire, roasting the ponyfish for dinner. The orange flames flickered in his dark eyes as he turned the fish on the grill, taking care not to let them burn. Amir and Nebu were washing up before dinner, and for the moment Sinbad was alone under the stars, squatting in the sand and looking out at the sea. The white foam of the breakers rushed up the shore and pulled back across the dark slant of the sand. Two seagulls caught in the moonlight called out to each other as they dipped and swooped over the glistening water. In Sinbadâs vivid imagination, the birdsâ high-pitched cries were the voices of Odysseusâs Sirens, beckoning him to join them. Such romantic wanderings of the mind were common with Sinbad who often pictured himself as an intrepid sea captain caught in a storm or a desperate galley slave bent on escape. He turned over the fish and looked up at the stars.
Someday Iâll steer my own ship by these very same stars and travel the world on marvelous adventures.
He pulled the fish off the fire and set them on a plate, then spoke out loud, âSomeday.â
Before the fish had cooled, his father and brother had joined him, and together they enjoyed the small but delicious meal of charbroiled ponyfish and roasted apples. When they had finished eating, Amir led Nebu back to the cottage, leaving Sinbad to put out the fire and wash the family plate. Once inside the cottage, Amir set Nebu down on the cot he shared with his brother and got him ready for bed. Nebu took off his sandals and removed his vest while Amir pulled out Nebuâs nightshirt from a large teak chest that held all their clothes. The heavy wooden chest with its thick leather bands, along with a blue dagger that he kept tucked in his sash, were the only belongings Amir had retained from his previous life.
âYou should let me do some of the work,â Nebu said. âSinbad does too much, and Iâm his older brother. I want to help.â
âDonât worry about Sinbad. He needs to stay busy. Itâs good for him,â Amir said. âAnd you do more than your share. Come now, get ready for bed.â
Amir handed the nightshirt to his son, then took a small leather-bound book from the chest and sat down next to Nebu to say their evening prayers. He opened the book to a verse marked with a strip of white silk then noticed Nebu was still holding the nightshirt with big tears now streaming down his cheeks. Amir closed the prayer book and turned to his son.
âNebu, donât do this to yourself. Youâre not a burden, not to me or to Sinbad. Donât ever think that. You help out in so many ways.â
Amir reached down and picked up a small basket from beside the cot.
âYou do fine work, son. Feel the weave of this basket. Itâs masterfulâitâs easily worth a sack of lentils in trade.â
âA basket-weaver,â Nebu said scornfully. âIs that what will become of me when youâre gone?â
âIâm not going anywhere.â
âYou will someday. Mother did.â
Amir turned the basket over in his hands, reflecting on a painful day in his past.
âSinbad has his own life, Father. I donât want him to have to look after me, his blind, stupid brother.â
âYouâre not stupid. Donât ever say that.â
Amir set down the basket and put his arm around his boy.
âNebuchadnezzar, do you know why I gave you that name?â
âSinbad says you were mad at me because I was born blind. He said, âIâd never be able to spell it.ââ
Amir had to smile at Sinbadâs cruel sense of humor.
âNo,â he said gently. âThatâs not why. It was because you are noble. I knew it when I first held you in my arms. So I named you after the strongest and greatest of all the kings.â
Amir pulled Nebu a little closer.
âGod is kind, son, and he has not punished you with blindness or made it difficult for you to learn because he is angry with you. He gives to each of us different burdens and different gifts. What strength he drew from your eyes he put into your arms, and any wisdom that doesnât take root in your mind is to be found in your heart.â
Nebu wiped away his tears and hugged his father.
* * *
The next morning, a bright yellow sun peeled away the night and revealed a perfectly calm sea outside Sinbadâs home. Down at the waterâs edge, a pair of hungry sandpipers hunted up their breakfast, racing back and forth along the sand in search of crabs, skirting the globs of blue jellyfish that had washed ashore overnight. Inside the cottage, Amir was already up and about. He washed his face with water from the goatskin pouch, put on a clean shirt, and went over and checked on his boys. They were both sound asleep with their backs to each other and Nebu facing the wall. Amir noticed a small scroll in Sinbadâs hand. He eased it out from between his sonâs fingers and unrolled it. It was a flawless translation of the story of the Waters of Zemzem, written in Arabic. Apparently, Sinbad had gotten up in the middle of the night and finished it. Amir looked down at his youngest son, sleeping as peacefully as the day he was born. He was such a good boy, so earnest and hard-working and clever, who always tried to do the right thing. He looked at Nebu, who was just as good in his own way. Like Sinbad, Nebu was an earnest, good-hearted boy, quite content in spite of his blindness and about as dependable as the rising sun.
Amir was overcome with emotion.
My God, how I love these two boys, he thought.
Amir knew that Sinbad and Nebu were both honest, guileless boys who would do their best to be ethical men and obedient to God. But the day was coming when he would have to release them into a wicked world, and he feared for them both.
I must help them. I must help Nebu find his own way in life, help him to stand on his own two feet, even though he is blind. And I must find some way to help Sinbad fulfill his dream of becoming a sailor.
Amir set the scroll on the table which oddly quivered on its rickety legs. All at once a great rumbling rose up from the earth and the whole cottage shook back and forth, knocking Amir to the ground. And then, as abruptly as it started, the shaking stopped. Amir got to his feet and checked on his boys. Sinbad was awake, stirred from sleep by the brief but powerful earthquake, but Nebu was still sound asleep.
âWhat was that?â Sinbad asked.
He yawned and looked at his father.
Amir locked eyes with Sinbad and listened. Suddenly a terrible fear rose up in his eyes and he rushed to the door, threw it open and looked out at the sea. The great expanse of the Arabian Sea was unusually calmâunnaturally so, appearing more like the smooth blue surface of an alpine lake. Sinbad hurried over to the door beside his father and looked out at the water. A bewitched silence hung in the air over the becalmed ocean, as if the whole of creation had been put under a spell. The eerie silence was broken by the calls of a flock of seagulls flying inland, their sharp cries like alarms warning of a coming catastrophe. All at once, the water along the shore drew back into the seaâback, back it went at an incredible speed, as if the entire ocean was being drawn into the mouth of a gargantuan whale.
Amir turned to Sinbad and shouted, âGet him up, now!â
Never in his life had Sinbad seen his father so afraid. He froze, and his father flew past him and pulled Nebu to his feet. Amir hurried Nebu out of the cottage then stopped and looked out at the ocean. By now the water had withdrawn more than a hundred yards from shore, and a thin white line had appeared on the horizon, growing higher as it rushed toward them from across the surface of the sea.
âWhat is it, Father?â asked a bewildered Nebu. âWhatâs wrong?â
Sinbad turned to his father.
âThe tree!â he cried. âWeâll climb the tree!â
Amirâs eyes snapped to the apple tree.
âNot high enough,â he said in a voice muted with despair.
Amir looked around for somewhere else to go and caught sight of the chest inside the cottage.
âThe chest! Sinbad, go back inside!â
Amir rushed his boys back into the cottage and threw open the chest, scooped up the garments, and flung them aside.
âGet in!â he cried.
Amir helped Nebu into the chest, and Sinbad climbed in after him, tucking up into a ball beside his brother. Amir grabbed the water pouch off of his cot, pulled his blue dagger from his sash, and thrust them both into Sinbadâs hands. He looked back at the sea and saw a massive wall of white water heading straight for the beach. He grabbed hold of the lid to close the chest, when Sinbad put out his hand.
âNo, Father, get in!â he pleaded.
But there wasnât room. Amir gazed upon his boys for the last time.
âI love you both,â he said, his deep voice quavering with emotion.
He looked at Sinbad.
âLook after Nebu. He needs you.â
Amir closed the lid and bolted it shut, then turned just as a wall of water crashed into the cottage and swept everything away.
The huge tsunami rushed inland across the entire coastline, drowning everything in its path but the tallest trees. Seconds past, and then the large wooden chest rose to the surface like a cork and a series of smaller successive waves drove it inland, where it came to rest at the base of a small hill swept clean of brush by the waves. And there it sat, with no telling whether the boys inside were alive or dead. After a time, the tip of a dagger poked through the top of the chest and began to saw at the leather bands. An hour later, the two brothers stepped out of the chest onto the mud on the side of the hill. Sinbad slung the water pouch over his shoulder and tucked the dagger into his sash then helped Nebu up the muddy slope. Once atop the hill, Sinbad turned and looked back at a new coastline of swirling gray water filled with debris. He stood for a time with hot tears in his eyes, perfectly silent, staring at the catastrophe that had taken his father and upended his life.
âWhy has this happened, Nebu?â Sinbad asked softly. âWhat have we done to deserve this? Isnât it enough that weâve lost our mother, that you are blind . . . Must God take Father too?â
Sinbad sobbed, and Nebu put his arm around him.
âItâs all right,â Nebu said gently.
Nebuâs unseeing eyes were dropping tears as he tried to comfort his little brother. He reassured Sinbad that this tragedy was all part of Godâs plan and that one day they would go to Heaven and be reunited with their mother and father. He said this even though he didnât think it was true. Perhaps someday they might go to Heaven, but this disaster was not part of a plan. Nebu didnât believe that for a moment. The God he knew, a God who loved his children, wouldnât take a mother and father away from two young boys. No, it was just the way of the worldâas much a part of it as wind and rain, or any storm or season. And though someday they might go to Heaven and see their parents again, even that wouldnât make this right. This was a horrible tragedy, now and forevermore, and nothing could ever change that. Nebu only spoke of God and Heaven to help ease Sinbadâs pain, but from the vantage point of his dark world, Godâs lone concern was with a personâs spirit, and he was tolerant of suffering for the banished children of Adam and Eve.
Nebu waited for Sinbad to stop crying before he told him it was time to leave. Sinbad looked out over his fatherâs watery grave and uttered a final prayer. Then, with nothing more to do, he turned his back on his past and walked off with Nebu into a cold and uncertain future.
The 1st Voyage of Sinbad: The Waters of Zemzem stars 18-year-old Sinbad, who has been looking after his blind older brother, Nebu, since their father was killed in a great tsunami six years earlier. With their mother long since disappeared, the boys were left with nothing but each other and the clothes on their backs. Earning their room and board as servants to a debaucherous merchant in a chart shop, Sinbad still dreams that one day he can acquire his own vessel and sail the sea on adventures, with Nebu by his side. Before his dreams can be realized, a mysterious dark prince enters the shop demanding a map to a mystical island where the Waters of Zemzem lie, said to cure any ailment. When their greedy employer lets slip that Nebu may be the subject of a mysterious prophecy concerning the waters, the prince kidnaps him. Sinbad now must embark on a quest to save not only Nebu, but the entire world, before the prince frees the King of the Jinn.
The 1st Voyage of Sinbad: The Waters of Zemzem captivates with its swift narrative and broad appeal, striking a chord with young adults and seasoned readers alike. The relatable ages of the protagonists, Sinbad and Nebu, bridge the gap between adolescent yearnings and adult responsibilities, making the tale a universal journey. The allure of mythology and the thrill of the hunt are timeless, and this story masterfully taps into that eternal fascination, presenting heroes whose charm and valor are irresistible.
The 1st Voyage of Sinbad: The Waters of Zemzem holds potential as an adventurous tale, yet it stumbles with some editorial precision and temporal inconsistencies. The abrupt age progression from the first to the second chapter disrupts the narrative flow, leaving readers to recalibrate their understanding of the characters' development. Furthermore, the portrayal of Nebu initially suggests a much younger character, which clashes with later revelations. These discrepancies, alongside the fluctuating timeline of the father's death, detract from the immersive experience that is crucial for a story of such epic proportions.
The 1st Voyage of Sinbad: The Waters of Zemzem is a riveting tale that weaves adventure with the bonds of brotherhood. Sinbad's journey from servant to hero is fraught with peril and steeped in the rich tapestry of mythology. The novel's strength lies in its vivid storytelling and the deep emotional core of Sinbad's dedication to his brother. It's a story that promises to take readers on a whirlwind voyage.