Stirred to the core by the words of his father Zal, the young giant Rostam set out to find a warhorse worthy of his titanic strength and armor. Herdsmen brought forth endless droves of horses from Zabulistan and Kabulistan, all bearing the royal brands of kings. Yet, as Rostam placed his heavy hand upon the back of each stallion to test its endurance, the horse's spine would bend beneath his weight until its belly touched the earth.
From Kabul unto Zarang, Rostam sought among all the colorful droves without success, until his gaze fell upon a swift mare broad-chested as a lion, short-legged, with ears like tempered daggers and a slender waist. Trotting behind her was a colt equal in height and stature—black-eyed, chestnut-browed, with a tail like a bull, hooves of solid steel, and a hide gleaming like saffron sprinkled with the crimson spots of wild roses. Rostam saw the elephant-bodied colt and coiled his royal lasso.
An aged shepherd called out, warning him not to take another's horse. Rostam asked to whom belonged this unbranded beast. The shepherd replied that none owned him; he was called Rakhsh—fiery in color and spirit. For three years he had been ready for the saddle, yet none could capture him, and the folk spoke of him only as 'Rostam's Rakhsh.' Moreover, his mother would tear apart any rider who dared throw a rope at her foal.
Ignoring the warning, Rostam cast the Kiani lasso, ensnaring the colt. Instantly, the mother mare charged like a furious lioness, intending to bite off the champion's head with her bared teeth. Rostam let out a roar so terrifying that the mare froze in shock; then he struck her neck with a single massive fist, causing her whole body to tremble before she stumbled, turned, and fled back to the herd.
Rostam then pressed his mighty hand down upon the back of Rakhsh with all his titanic strength. Astonishingly, the rose-dappled colt did not bow or buckle under the crushing weight—it stood firm and untamed, as though feeling no burden at all! Rostam smiled in delight, knowing he had found his true mount. When he asked the shepherd the colt's price, the old man answered: 'If thou art Rostam, the price of this beast is the whole realm of Iran, for upon his back thou shalt restore righteousness to the world.'
Rostam praised Yazdan with a joyous heart and saddled the glorious steed. Rakhsh proved so swift and majestic in battle that wild rue was burned every night to shield him from evil eyes. Seeing the young champion mounted upon his matchless steed, the heart of Zal زر bloomed like spring, and he flung open his treasures to distribute gold freely without a thought for tomorrow.