When the golden sun raised its banner across the heavenly vault and the blade of dawn severed the dark mantle of night, Tazhav the Turanian march-warden felt the shadow of doom fall upon him. His black charger, Kabudeh, had not returned, and the morning breeze carried the bitter scent of calamity. Summoning his remaining horsemen, Tazhav advanced, but the alert Iranian lookouts upon the heights raised a resounding cry, warning that a Turanian host led by a dragon-like chieftain beneath a leopard banner was marching toward the field.
Giv, the renowned Iranian knight, rode forth with a band of proven warriors to confront him. Beholding Tazhav's modest force, Giv admonished him for stepping blindly into the dragon's maw. Tazhav boastfully proclaimed his royal status as Afrasiab's son-in-law and the ruler of Goravgard, declaring that no Iranian could ever lower his banner. Giv offered him a peaceful path—to present himself before General Tus and receive robes of honor and riches—but Tazhav contemptuously refused. Seeing his father attempt to reason with the enemy, young Bijan interjected, declaring that Turanians deserved only the cold steel of maces and swords, and spurred his steed directly into the fray.
A fierce battle erupted, raising clouds of dust so thick the sun was blotted out. Giv and Bijan cut through the Turanian ranks like unleashed storms until three quarters of the enemy lay dead. Overwhelmed, Tazhav turned to flee, but Bijan pursued him like a ravenous lion. Striking Tazhav's waist with a heavy spear, Bijan shattered the fasteners of his armor and snatched the precious crown of Afrasiab straight from the chieftain's head.
Tazhav galloped frantically toward his fortress, where his fair beloved, Espanoy, stood weeping at the gates, begging not to be abandoned. Moved by her pleas, Tazhav pulled her onto his saddle. However, his exhausted horse soon faltered. Realizing they would both be caught, Tazhav left Espanoy behind and fled on foot. Bijan arrived, marveled at the maiden's radiant beauty, and brought her back to the Iranian camp while Tus's army plundered the fort and captured the vast herds of Turanian mares.
A humiliated Tazhav arrived tearfully before King Afrasiab, recounting the catastrophe. Enraged, Afrasiab berated his commander Piran Viseh for slowness and cowardice. Stung by the king's rebuke, Piran swiftly assembled a formidable host of one hundred thousand warriors, placing Barman, Tazhav, and Nastihan at key commands. Learning from spies that the Iranian army in Bavard and Sarakhs had abandoned all vigilance to feast and drink, Piran ordered a secret, rapid night march to launch a devastating surprise attack upon the unsuspecting Iranians.