Section 10: Zal Comes to Mehrab's Aid

The messenger reached Zal, and his heart flared up like fire. He turned toward the field where Mehrab was, racing there with a warlike army. When he saw Mehrab still holding firm, and found wisdom and good judgment in his mind, he said to himself: now why fear this army? Whether it is Khazravan before me or a fistful of dust, it makes no difference. Then the glory-seeker turned toward the city, and when he entered it, he said to Mehrab: you are a shrewd man, admirable in all you do. Now I will go out into the dark night and reach for their blood. They will learn that I have come back, my heart full and set on revenge. He slung a mighty bow over his arm, with an arrow as thick as a tree branch. He watched to see where the enemy champions were, then sent a straight shaft flying from the bow. He loosed three arrows at three spots, and the cry of battle and alarm rose up. When night turned to day and the army gathered, everyone looked at those arrows. They said: these arrows are Zal's alone; no one else draws a shaft like this on his bow. When the bright sun climbed overhead, the roar of drums rose from the plain. In the city, kettledrums and trumpets sounded, and cymbals and Indian bells rang out. The army marched out and spread onto the open plain, bringing out the royal pavilion and the elephants. Army closed against army, and the plain turned black as a mountain from the dust. Khazravan charged with mace and shield, launching an attack on Zal the golden-haired. He struck a mace blow to Zal's shining chest, and that famous warrior's armor was split apart. When the king of Zabulistan was hard pressed, the champions of Kabulistan rushed forward. Brave Zal put on a coat of mail and entered the fight like a lion. In his hand he held his father's mace, his head filled with rage, his heart with fury. He brought that ox-headed mace down on Khazravan's skull, and the ground grew mottled with blood like a leopard's back. He struck him down, trampled him, and left him behind, then rode out ahead of the army onto the field. He called Shamasas to come out, but he did not, for his blood had run cold with fear. Amid the dust of battle he found Kalbad and swung his steel toward his neck. When the swordsman saw Zal's mace, he tried to make himself vanish from sight. Zal, still mounted, strung his bow and sent a shaft driving easily into him. It struck Kalbad's belt, right on its steel-linked clasp, and pinned his waist to the saddle. The army's heart burned with grief for Kalbad. When these two were laid low in battle, Shamasas lost heart, his face turning pale. Shamasas and that battle-ready army broke off from the fight and turned back. Then the brave warriors of Zabulistan pressed forward alongside the king of Kabulistan. So many lay slain on the battlefield that you would think the world had grown too narrow for the army. They fled toward the king of the Turks, their weapons loosened and their belts undone. When Shamasas reached the open desert, Qaren, son of Kaveh, appeared on the road, who had turned back from Visa's army after killing his dear son in disgrace. The two armies clashed head-on: Shamasas against the vengeful Qaren. Qaren realized who they were, that they were the remnants gathered from the Zabulistan campaign. He sounded the brazen trumpet and blocked the road, and army drove into army. From that army of wounded and captured men, the dust rose up to the shining sun. Shamasas, fleeing with a few men, escaped from that dark storm of battle.