"I have memorized them as you taught me," the young man replied, touching the symbols engraved on the medallion. "I repeat them every day so as not to forget a single detail."
Thomas nodded with satisfaction.
"Now listen carefully, David. What I am about to tell you is not written in any book. This information is passed only from teacher to chosen pupil."
The young man straightened, his whole demeanor showing readiness to heed every word.
"The crystal is only part of the secret," Thomas began. "To use its full power, you need an astronomical instrument created by ancient masters. A disc with concentric circles and special markings. We deliberately separated them so that no one person could accidentally unite them."
"Where is this disc?" asked David.
"In a safe place," Thomas replied. "If the Mongols capture you and torture you, you cannot reveal what you do not know." He paused. "But I have left clues. The medallion contains instructions, understandable only to one who knows what to look for."
David looked at his teacher in confusion.
"You speak in riddles, teacher."
"Time will pass, and you will understand," Thomas smiled. "Right now, the main thing is to preserve the medallion and knowledge of the crystal. Find worthy followers who will continue to guard the secret after you."
He turned back to the lake.
"You know, I have pondered much about the power of the relic. About why the Lord allowed the creation of an object possessing such power, which can bring both blessing and curse. And I have concluded that it is a test for humanity. A test of our wisdom and our morality."
Thomas fell silent, as if listening to something. Then he continued in a different, more tense voice:
"I have created traps for those who will seek treasures out of greed. False caches, deceptive signs. He who craves gold will find only death." He looked directly into his pupil's eyes. "But he who seeks truth will be guided to it, if his heart is pure."
The wind strengthened, bringing freshness and the scent of water from the lake. Thomas shivered and adjusted his tattered cloak.
"You should know something else, David. The Mongol shamans… They sense the crystal's power. Some of them possess the gift of seeing the invisible. They are already trying to find it. Genghis Khan sent his best baghatur Subutai with divers to search for it at the bottom of the lake."
"But we hid the crystal in a cave, not in the lake," David frowned.
"Exactly. I have made sure to spread rumors about treasures being submerged. This will throw them off the track." Thomas smiled subtly. "Besides, the entrance to the cave will be visible only under special lighting, one day a year. At other times, no one will find it, no matter how thoroughly they search."
David shook his head with involuntary admiration.
"You have foreseen everything, teacher."
"Not everything," Thomas objected. "But enough to buy time. A lot of time. And now," he squeezed his pupil's shoulder, "it's time to say goodbye."
Tears glistened in David's eyes.
"What will happen to you? To the others?"
Thomas looked away.
"God will decide our fate." He was silent for a moment and added more quietly: "I will try to negotiate life for everyone, and if that fails—to buy time so that as many brothers and sisters as possible can escape."
"They torture prisoners," David whispered. "The Mongols. They tell terrible things…"
"I know," Thomas replied calmly. "But remember that physical suffering is temporary. They can break the body, but not the spirit."
He rummaged in the folds of his garment and took out a small leather pouch.
"Here, take this. Inside is what will help you on your journey. Some gold, the seal of our community, and a letter to the brothers in Kashgar. If you manage to reach there, they will help you."
David took the pouch but did not hide it, continuing to hold it in his hand as if he could not bring himself to accept this last gift from his teacher.
"And if… if they catch me?" he asked in a strained voice. "And I cannot withstand torture?"
Thomas looked at his pupil attentively. During his long years of wandering and service, he had seen much, but always found the strength to remain true to his principles. He had witnessed the fall of Jerusalem, fought in the Crusades before turning to faith and becoming a monk. He knew what fear and pain were. And he knew how to cope with them.
"David," he began gently, "do you remember the story of Saint Peter?"
The young man nodded.
"He denied Christ three times before the rooster crowed."
"Yes. Even the most devoted disciple can show weakness. We are all human." Thomas placed his hand on David's shoulder. "But what matters is not that we fall, but that we find the strength to rise. If you are captured and you break… Just survive, David. Survive and continue the mission when you can."
Tears stood in the young man's eyes.
"I don't want to leave you, teacher."
"But you must," Thomas said firmly. "Not for me, not for yourself. For those who will come after us. For those who may one day need the crystal's power."
He embraced his pupil, holding him tightly to his chest.
"Go by mountain paths," he whispered. "Local shepherds will show you secret trails. Stay away from main roads. And remember: light in water, water in light. Solomon's key will open the way."
"Light in water, water in light," David repeated. "Solomon's key will open the way."
They drew apart. Thomas pronounced a blessing in Aramaic, the ancient language of their faith, and made the sign of the cross over his pupil.
"Go in peace, my son. And may the Lord keep you."
David bowed his head, accepting the blessing, then quickly, without looking back, walked away. At the edge of the path leading down from the plateau, he turned one last time. Thomas still stood there, against the backdrop of the rising sun, tall and straight. His figure seemed to glow in the rays of dawn, as if woven from light itself.
David raised his hand in a farewell gesture and began to descend. Within moments, he disappeared among the rocks and shrubs.
Thomas remained standing motionless for a long time, gazing after his departing pupil. Then he turned and looked at the lake, shimmering in the rays of the morning sun.
"Lord," he whispered, "give him strength to fulfill his mission. And give me courage to face what is to come."
He knew that returning to the monastery meant, most likely, condemning himself to death. The Mongols did not leave alive those who resisted. But Thomas had a plan—a mad, desperate plan that might give the remaining refugees a chance for salvation.
He took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and headed back to the stone buildings. A conversation with the abbot of the Armenian monastery, old Father Grigor, awaited him. They needed to prepare a feigned surrender of the monastery, while the majority of the refugees would secretly leave through an underground passage known only to a few.
Three days later, Thomas sat in a dungeon—a cramped cellar with an earthen floor and rough stone walls. His hands were tied behind his back, his legs bound with rope. His face was covered with bruises, one arm, twisted during interrogation, throbbed painfully.
The Mongol noyon Jebe was known for his cruelty, but also for his perspicacity. He quickly realized that Thomas was not just one of the refugees, but a leader, a keeper of knowledge.
The interrogations continued day after day. Jebe wanted to know where the treasures were hidden. He was not interested in gold and silver—he was looking for some special item. "The Stone of Power," as he called it.
Thomas remained silent,