Upon overcoming the sorceress in the fourth stage, Prince Esfandiyar bowed low in prostration, pressing his forehead into the soil in devout gratitude to the Creator of the Universe. In the cool shade of the woodland, his attendants raised the royal pavilion and prepared a lavish banquet. The prince then commanded the executioners to bring forth Gurgsar, the bound Turanian captive who served as their reluctant guide. Esfandiyar presented him with three goblets of crimson royal wine. As the spirit warmed Gurgsar's heart, Esfandiyar gestured toward the severed head of the enchantress hanging from a nearby branch and mocked him: 'O ill-starred Turk, behold the head of your dread witch! You claimed she would drag my host into the abyss of the sea and touch the Pleiades with her head. Now tell me, what new wonder awaits at the next stage, that I may take its measure?'
Gurgsar answered trembling: 'O war-elephant of the battleground! The fifth trial is grimmer by far. You shall reach a towering mountain touching the skies, home to a sovereign bird known as the Simorgh. It is like a flying mountain, eager for battle. It swoops down to snatch elephants from the plains, whales from the oceans, and lions from the wilderness, lifting them to the clouds without effort. It has two offspring as vast as itself, and when it expands its shadow across the sky, it robs the earth of sense and the sun of its brilliance. If you turn back now, it will be to your lasting gain.'
Esfandiyar laughed at the warning, boasting: 'By the strength of the Almighty, I shall pin its wings with steel arrowheads and cleave its chest with my Indian blade, bringing its noble head down into the dust!' As darkness fell and the sun withdrew its golden shield, the Iranian host marched under the cover of night. When the dawn lit up the valleys, Esfandiyar arrived at the foot of the colossal peak whose crest was lost in the clouds.
The prince readied his wooden chariot fortified with razor-sharp steel blades facing outward. Entrusting the main army to his righteous brother Peshotan, Esfandiyar entered the armored chamber within the chariot, offering prayers to the One God. From high above, the Simorgh spotted the glittering chariot and the blare of Iranian war-trumpets. Descending like a tempestuous dark cloud that blotted out sun and moon alike, it struck down to seize the chariot as a leopard strikes its prey.
Instead of flesh, the Simorgh's talons and wings slammed against the row of protruding blades. The steel tore into its massive limbs, shedding torrents of blood. Helplessly writhing with beak and claw, the mighty beast weakened rapidly as its blood washed over the wooden box. Terrified by their parent's agony and the sight of gushing blood, the Simorgh's young fled into the distant horizon.
Seeing the monster immobilized and dying, Esfandiyar sprang forth from his hidden box, clad in armor and wielding his heavy Indian sword. Roaring like a sea-monster, he struck the weakened bird repeatedly until its limbs were severed and its breath ceased. Fallling to his knees, Esfandiyar rendered profound praise to the Just God Who had guided him through the perils of sorcery and beasts. Peshotan and the Iranian army blew trumpets and pitched the royal tents, gazing in awe at the vast plain covered from mountain to mountain with shimmering, blood-soaked feathers. Gurgsar trembled in pale despair at the news, while the victorious Iranians spread rich brocades upon the earth, pouring wine to celebrate the fifth triumph.