As dawn broke, Rostam donned his coat of mail and wrapped the impenetrable Babr-e Bayan over his body. He secured his lasso to the saddle-strap and mounted the elephant-bodied Rakhsh. Summoning his brother Zavareh, he gave explicit orders regarding the army: 'Marshal the troops upon the sand ridge. My heart is fraught with foreboding regarding this demon-wrought prince; I know not what destiny holds. I shall seek this combat alone, for I wish no nobleman of Zabulistan to suffer. True victory belongs only to those who walk the path of justice.'
Zavareh arranged the host while Rostam rode forth amidst the loud acclamations of his warriors. Reaching the banks of the Hirmand river, Rostam left his brother and the army behind and crossed toward the encampment of the Iranian prince. Ascending a high ridge, he bellowed across the waters: 'O glorious Esfandiyar! Your challenger has arrived, prepare for battle!'
Hearing the voice of the ancient lion, Esfandiyar laughed, declaring that he had been ready since sunrise. He called for his armor, royal helmet, quiver, and spear. Mounting his black warhorse, he planted the butt of his spear into the soil and leaped effortlessly into the saddle—a display of martial elegance that left his army marveling in applause.
Upon seeing Rostam standing alone, Esfandiyar instructed his brother Peshotan to stay back: 'He comes unassisted; we too shall face him without allies.' The two titans advanced toward each other like raging lions. Once more, Rostam attempted to avert tragedy, offering to let the Zabulian and Kabuli contingents clash instead of their own royal blood. Esfandiyar dismissed the proposal as trickery: 'It is against my faith to slaughter Iranian soldiers merely so I may wear the crown. Bring allies if you must, but my only helper in battle is Almighty Yazdan and a smiling fate!'
They struck a firm pact that no outside help would intervene. The duel commenced with spears, thrusting until the iron points shattered and blood ran down their breastplates. Drawing their heavy swords, they struck with such fierce impact that the steel blades snapped into pieces. Turning to massive maces, they battered each other until the handles splintered in their hands. Finally, they gripped each other's waist-straps in a desperate struggle of sheer strength, yet neither warrior budged an inch from his saddle. Exhausted, covered in foam, blood, and dust, with their armor shredded, both champions retreated a pace to draw breath.