بخش 18

When that precious vengeance was reclaimed, they set the saddle upon Zarīr’s horse and charged toward the field of war. The Kayan host was divided into three: one portion entrusted to Bostur, the second to a commander of noble lineage, and the third to his brother together with the Iranian grandees and stalwart men. He kept the third portion by his own side so that, like a thundering cloud, a roar would rise from his ranks. Bostur, pure of body, and that other sword-wielding champion advanced; together they stood as one, for his creed was the breaking of armies. All swore an oath: even if the enemy’s blades tore the very earth, not a single man would turn back from this combat, nor would they loosen their grip upon these evildoers. They tightened the girths firm upon their steeds and, with one heart, went to battle. When the horses were cleared from the midst, both elders and youths of Iran rose in unison and arrayed the world in mail; they slew so many of the foe that the space of the battlefield grew narrow. Blood flowed over mountain and plain so profusely that you would say the mills turned upon blood. Seeing this, Arjāsp advanced with his nobles and men. Then the bull-like dust-sweeper of a champion cast his spear among the Yabghu-born dust-raisers and stitched breasts from front to back, until he had slain all the proud leaders. When the Khāqān knew that many remained and none dared stand before him, the host churned and the matter turned until the day passed; at that very moment, he fell into flight and set his face toward the desert. The Iranians pressed in upon that disordered Chinese army and slew multitudes on every side—none were spared.