As for Rustem, scarcely believing himself alive after such a narrow escape, gratefully he returned thanks unto Ormuzd, looking upon it as nothing short of a miracle. Then, having bathed his limbs, covered with dust and blood, in the river, he readjusted his torn armor, and sat him down to rest, wondering how this desperate duel would finally end.
But no such misgivings troubled Sohrab as he rested. Nor was he alone; for Human, beholding the truce, came out unto the Hero to ask of the adventures of the day. When Sohrab related unto him of the fight, however, and of how he had spared Rustem, Human reproached him for his folly, saying:
“Alas, O Sohrab! The lion whom thou so unwisely released from thy toils hath caught thee in a yet more cunning snare. Beware, therefore, when the combat is renewed, for Fortune rarely giveth us twice the opportunity to overcome our foes. And only think what an enemy is this!”
Now Sohrab was abashed when he learned how that Rustem had duped him. But, hiding his chagrin, he said lightly unto Human:
“Brave Human, be not troubled, for in an hour we meet again in battle, and though twice I have shown mercy unto this old warrior, a third time shall it not happen, for now all the demands of honor have been met.”
Now while Sohrab and the Tartar chief thus spake of Rustem, behold, the Hero himself had gone aside, and kneeling beside the running brook, he prayed unto Ormuzd, entreating that such strength be granted unto him that victory should crown his final efforts. Yea, and the All-Merciful One heard the cry of his troubled child, granting unto him such increased strength that lo! the rock whereon he knelt gave way beneath him, because it had not power to bear his weight. Then Rustem, feeling that too much strength might prove his undoing, prayed yet again asking that part thereof be taken away. And again Ormuzd listened unto his voice.
So, rested and reinspired, when the hour was ended, once more the champions turned them unto the place of combat, determined to bring the awful struggle to a close ere another night set in. Now Rustem’s heart, in spite of his increased strength, was full of care; but Sohrab came forth like a giant refreshed. Running at Rustem like a mad elephant, therefore, he shouted in a voice of thunder:
“Ho, Wily One! Prepare to meet thy end. For this time thy words of guile shall avail thee naught.”
Now Rustem, when he saw the rage of the hitherto laughing young stripling, learned at last to know fear, and in his heart he quickly prayed unto Ormuzd, asking that the strength withdrawn be restored unto him. Then, imbued with all his new-found might, Rustem raised high his head, his eyes glaring with the wild light of battle, his sword brandished on high. So for a second he stood, after which, with a terrible roar, he advanced upon Sohrab, instinctively shouting his old, thunderous battle-cry: “Rustem! Rustem!”
Alas for Sohrab! Stopped midway in his charge by the sound of that much-loved name, for one fateful second, he gazed, bewildered, then instinctively he recoiled, dropping his shield, thus leaving himself uncovered. Quick as a flash, therefore, Rustem drew his blade, and drove it with mighty force through the breast of the youthful hero who, staggering back, sank heavily to the ground. And now, the awful din of arms being hushed, behold, the sun shone forth once more from between the parted thunder-clouds, revealing a fierce warrior standing triumphant over his fallen foe!