Upon witnessing Qaran's valor in the thick of battle, young Rostam's spirit blazed for combat. He approached his father, Zal, inquiring where the evil-minded Afrasiab stood, how his banner was raised, and how he might be singled out. Zal cautioned his son, warning that the Turanian prince fought like a fierce dragon, clad in black armor, bearing a black standard, and helmeted in iron lined with gold. Unshaken, Rostam placed his faith in the Creator of the World, trusting in his own heart, sword, and mighty arm.
Mounting the bronze-hoofed Rakhsh, Rostam charged into the plain as warhorns split the air. Afrasiab marvelled at the youth who rode like a raging dragon and asked his troops for the warrior's identity. Learning it was the son of Dastan carrying the heavy mace of Sam, Afrasiab surged forward like a storm-tossed wave. Rostam closed the distance, stowed his mace upon the saddle-bow, and gripped Afrasiab by the waistband, lifting the prince effortlessly off his leopard-skin saddle to take him captive before King Kayqubad. Yet under Rostam's immense strength, the leather strap snapped, sending Afrasiab tumbling into the dirt. Turanian horsemen swarmed to shield their lord, whisking him away to safety. Though Rostam bit his hand in frustration for not seizing him by the arm, King Kayqubad rallied the host like a blazing fire. The Iranian forces shattered the Turanian ranks, slaying eleven hundred and sixty champions in quick succession. Broken, weaponless, and bereft of banners or drums, the routed Turanian army fled through Damghan back across the Oxus River.