As the golden sun broke over the horizon and the skylark's song echoed across the plain, the war drums roared from the camp of Kamus of Kashan. The colossal warrior, famed for felling steeds and leading vanguards, donned his mail beneath his tunic and laced his helmet. With a heart swollen with vengeance and pride, he assembled his vast host. High on the crags of Mount Hamavan, the Iranian lookouts sounded the alarm, announcing that a formidable army was pouring through the narrow pass.
Kamus advanced like a moving mountain, his horse groaning under his immense weight, clutching a mace crowned like a bull's head. Looking up toward the Iranian encampment on the mountain, he bellowed with disdain, challenging any Iranian champion to match his strength, his sword, and his formidable mace. Hearing this boast, Giv was filled with rage; drawing his sword and calling upon Almighty God, he rained arrows upon Kamus like a spring deluge. Kamus hid his head behind his shield, then charged with his spear like a ravenous wolf. The spear striking Giv's waist rocked him in his saddle, but the Iranian hero recovered and slashed the shaft of Kamus's spear in two.
Seeing that Giv was hard-pressed by the giant warrior, Tus charged out from the center of the army to aid his comrade. Together, the two Iranian noblemen engaged Kamus in an unrelenting melee that raged until the sun set and dusk cloaked the field in black obsidian.
Under the cover of night, Rostam arrived at Mount Hamavan, his iconic dragon-crested banner violet against the dark sky. Gudarz and the Iranian lords wept tears of joy upon seeing the grand champion. Rostam embraced Gudarz, consoled the mourning warriors, and offered wise council on the transience of life and the nobility of duty. On the opposing side, Homan and Piran spotted Rostam's emerald green pavilions and terrifying banner. Though Piran grew anxious, Kamus dismissed his fears with fierce arrogance, vowing to paint the battlefield red with Iranian blood when dawn broke.