The One with the Arrow

It is a dark time; the time of ruin, the time of corruption, the time of the decline of the civilized and the advance of the barbarian, the time of the going of the light and the coming of the dark. Wherever you look, you see suffering, you see sorrow, you see despair.

In the battlefield there is only the huge pile of the dead and a few men standing at the side of Iran with their lord before the huge army of the barbarians, the last of the guardians of the Shah, in the eyes of all of which it can be seen the exhaustion of the battle. It is only now that Afrasiab, the lord of Turanians, has accepted the peace with only one condition. There is an arrow in his hands and a snicker on his mouth while he shouts "Our border shall be the place this arrow lands", and Manuchehr the Shah says, "yes, to the place the arrow flies, it is Iran". But Afrasiab laughs at him in his heart, "You fool! But who is going to throw it?! No man has remained of your archers".

And the arrow is passed by, going from one hand to another, throughout the land and no one dares to accept it, until it comes to Arash.

And it is Arash that, holding the arrow firmly in his hand, is going north to the heart of the land. To Damavand.

A cold wind is blowing. Arash looks upon the mountain as he goes north and although he is walking strongly, a trembling passes his body. "No", he says, "it's not me. It's the wind". And he takes his next steps.

"Wait", a voice calls, "Wait". There's a man running behind him. "That will go to nowhere, Arash. Go back. Go back and throw the arrow towards Afrasiab himself", the man says.

"No", answers Arash, "I will not do that because then another Afrasiab is going to rise and replace him. I'm going to end this once and for all. I'm going to free all with my arrow". And he continues his way as he goes towards the mountain.

And now, Arash is standing on the peak of Damavand, and he looks upon his land, and upon his people, and upon his Shah, and upon his bow and his arrow. And then Arash strains his bow as never before and as soon as he lets the arrow fly, his bow hits the ground.

Tomorrow, when people go searching for Arash, they return only carrying his bow, never finding a sign of his body.

And it was at the noon of that day that people could find an arrow upon the body of an old walnut tree on the far bank of the Oxus river; the glorious sign of a victorious nation.

And it was the only arrow, whose flying made the sun smile, and its falling made the earth happy. It was the flying of the spirit of the one with the arrow.