Part 13: The Death of Aghrirath

When Aghrirath came from Amol to Rey, King Afrasiab learned of what he had done. He said to him: What is this you have stirred up, mixing bitterness into what was sweet? I ordered you, my brother: kill them all. War is no place for reason or careful thought. A fighter's mind should not turn to wisdom, and there is no room for honor in battle. A warrior does not surrender his head to reason, for vengeance and wisdom never blend together. Aghrirath answered Afrasiab: A man needs at least some shame and honor. Whenever you have the power to do evil, fear God and do harm to no one. This crown and belt have seen many like you; they will not stay loyal to anyone forever. One of them was full of fire, the other full of wisdom. How could wisdom ever suit a demon's mind? The commander flared up like a drunken elephant, and in reply he reached for his sword. He cut his own brother in two at the waist, such a stone-hearted, reckless man he was. When news of the noble Aghrirath's fate reached Zal, the great horseman, he said: Now the head of Afrasiab's fortune will go dark, and his throne will fall to ruin. He blew the brass horn and strapped on the war drums, and drew up his army bright as a rooster's eye. The commander set his face toward Pars, marching full of anger and a heart bent on revenge. From sea to sea the land was packed with men, and the faces of moon and sun were veiled in dust. When Afrasiab heard the news that warlike Zal had laid the ground for battle, he brought his army toward the plains of Rey, arrayed for war, and stood his ground firmly. The scouts fought on night and day; you would think the whole world had closed in on them. Many champions were killed on both sides, all of them famous, battle-hungry men.