Word reached King Darab that Sho'ayb, a renowned chieftain of the lineage of Qotayb, had assembled a hundred thousand battle-tested, spear-wielding Arab horsemen to strike against Iran. In response, Darab mustered an army so vast that men declared its numbers beyond count. When the two mighty hosts converged, the sky darkened beneath the wrath of fiercely determined warriors. So crowded was the field that the earth could barely bear their weight, leaving no path unblocked.
Under a continuous storm of javelins and arrows, the soil turned into a veritable lake of blood. Shouts and battle cries echoed from every flank, and mounds of the fallen rose across the plain. For three days and three nights the carnage raged unabated, as though the wide world had narrowed into a tight ring of fire. But on the fourth night, fortune abandoned the invaders: Sho'ayb was slain in the thick of combat, and the leaderless Arab army fled into the darkness.
Left behind was a trove of prized Arabian warhorses, complete with fine saddles, as well as endless piles of spears, swords, and coat-of-mail armor. Darab generously distributed all the spoils among his victorious soldiers. He then selected a wise border warden who was fluent in the Arabic language, sending him into the desert lands to demand all unpaid tributes for the past years and to establish his royal authority.