Gatekeeper I - The Finding: Gatekeeper Trilogy, #1

I dedicate this book to my brother, Micah,

who first called me a writer.

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Thank you for opening the gate for me.

The Gatekeeper Trilogy:

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Gatekeeper I

The Finding

Gatekeeper II

The Leaving

Gatekeeper III

The Keeping

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Click here to get started: www.ranelsonwriting.com/gatekeeper

Regarding Oxford:

"‘There’s something about this place,’

said Peter presently,

‘that alters all one’s values.’" 

~ Dorothy Sayers, Gaudy Night

~ Prologue ~

If she weren’t beginning to feel terrified, this could be such a beautiful moment.

Anna stood at the top of the Berlin Cathedral, on the balcony that wrapped around the dome, and tried to convince herself that it was the gentle breeze causing her to shiver. The lights of Berlin spread out below her, obscured by a heavy mist. It was like looking down into an ocean; was that the river down there?  And there was the fairground they had passed on the way to the cathedral, the Ferris wheel brightly lit up and seeming strangely out of place in the midst of the modern, efficient city.

She and Nicholas leaned against the rail, taking in the sight and trying to savor the quiet magic of this moment. At least, she hoped Nicholas was enjoying it. She was also hoping he didn’t notice that the man who had come up the stairs after them was the same man who had taken their picture at the top of the Reichstag. And who had been on the train from Prague, and at the castle earlier that day.

A numb sort of panic was beginning to settle in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t afraid he would hurt them, whoever he was. She just wanted to know why he was following them. In fact, it would be nice to know what this whole mystery in which she had landed was about. And the burden of hiding everything from Nicholas and Eddie was beginning to wear on her.

How did I end up here?

It was a question she had asked herself at least ten times each day since they arrived in Prague. No, longer than that – since before they left Oxford. No, longer still – ever since she said goodbye to her parents at the airport, right before she boarded the flight to England. Even in those first few innocent days, she had wondered what on earth she was doing there. Even on that farm with her homestay family, eating British meals and roaming British countryside and adjusting to the idea of being in a new country, she had been uneasy.

An image flashed into her mind of a girl trudging along a muddy lane, wearing borrowed Wellington boots that were too large for her, head bowed against the misty rain and against the uncertainty of all that lay ahead during her time studying abroad. Anna was surprised at how long it took her to recognize the girl in the image as herself. Insecure, naïve, anxious – how had that girl ever made it through the two months that followed?  The image made Anna shiver even more than the sickening tension of his constant presence, leaning on the railing about twenty feet away from her.

I’d take fear over uneasiness any day, she thought silently as the seconds dragged by. At least now I can be afraid of something tangible.

Sort of.

~ Chapter 1 ~

At least it wasn’t raining.

Anna stood on the corner of High Street and Cornmarket, people pushing past her in every direction, and tried to count her blessings. The train ride from Ottery St. Mary that morning had been hectic and nerve-wracking; her college was supposed to be on High Street, and she couldn’t find it; she had no idea even how to begin finding the way back to her residence hall, which at any rate was a good twenty-minute walk from the center of town; she didn’t know a single soul in the whole city to ask for directions; it was getting dark, and she was about to be late to the induction dinner, her first official event as an Oxford student; her feet ached from running around the city in heels, and she felt very conspicuous in her dress clothes. But, at least England’s weather wasn’t living up to all the warnings she’d received before she left home.

She tried to focus on this cheerful thought as she turned back up Cornmarket, a street perpetually closed to cars – and, therefore, all the more packed with walkers, shops, and an incessant stream of bicyclists. A bagpiper playing on the corner a block away gave the street a friendly, cheerful atmosphere. Surely someone here knew of the existence and location of Saints College.

All the shops she passed were too full of people for her to feel comfortable going in and announcing that she was a helpless, ignorant newcomer, so she kept walking until the crowd from High Street thinned out into a steady stream. Finally, she noticed a small sandwich shop – like many she had already seen that day – that looked like it was experiencing a lull between mobs. Anna ducked inside and went straight to the counter.

Excuse me, she said with as much assertiveness as she could convincingly fake, could you tell me where Saints College is?

Saints College?  The reply came not from behind the counter as she had expected, but from a customer standing beside her. She had failed to notice him on her blind rush from the door.

Oh, I’m sorry, she stammered. I didn’t realize you were in line.

No worries. I was just visiting my friend.  He indicated the girl behind the counter. Did you say Saints College?

He looked to be about her age, and was obviously a student. Might as well.

Yeah, I can’t seem to find it.

He smiled. It’s a confusing city. If I had been alone, I might have had trouble finding it myself.

Do you go there?

As of today. I assume you do also, though you could just be an extremely enthusiastic tourist. 

She smiled back. If I were, I would have brought a better map.

He offered his hand with mock formality. Nicholas Diggs. And you are?

Anna Merritt.  They shook hands.

Now Anna, you’re not from around here, are you?

His eyes were friendly, if a little detached. She had promised her mother umpteen times to be very careful around strangers, but she had to start making friends somehow. Her accent eliminated all hope of blending in anyway.

Perceptive!  she replied, trying to appear confident. I guess that’s why they let you into Oxford.

No, I got in by cheating on my A-levels. So, what made you decide to return to the mother country?  American schools too rebellious and disorderly for you?

Anna laughed. At least he appreciated sarcasm. Exactly. I heard Oxford was a lot calmer.

Well, then you’ve been deceived. But at least it’s easy to find your way around.

Right. So, could you tell me how to get to Saints College?

I’m headed back myself now; we could just walk together. 

Oh, are you going to the induction dinner?

He smiled ruefully. It’s tradition. Do you think we have a choice?  He said goodbye to the girl behind the counter – who, Anna suddenly noticed, had been glaring at her throughout this whole exchange – and they headed for the door.

I didn’t mean to interrupt something back there, she whispered.

What?  No, it’s not a problem. I was just dashing in to say hello; she’s the daughter of one of my dad’s employees. 

Anna looked back at the girl, who was still staring after them with what Anna considered to be rather unnecessary fierceness. Apparently, her new friend was a bit of a flirt.

They stepped outside and began making their way back to High Street. Cornmarket was just as busy as it had been two minutes before, but Anna immediately noticed that the crowds were not nearly so distressing when one wasn’t alone. The massive stone structures lining High Street were still daunting, but she could now see that they all seemed to emanate dignity and rich history – even if she couldn’t find her own college among them. Furthermore, the streets packed with students and townies rushing about their business meant that this was a vibrant city, full of energy and life – even if she’d already had two near-death encounters with heedless bicyclists.

The sun was setting over Oxford, flooding the length of High Street with rosy light that turned the stone buildings to gold. The air was crisp with the cold of mid-autumn, and the bagpiper was still playing on the corner, though his notes faded as they turned left onto High Street. For the first time that day, Anna began to be glad that she had come.

So, Anna Merritt, what part of America are you from?

Isn’t it obvious?  she replied. I’m a southern girl, born and raised.

Really?  You don’t have an accent.

Then I guess I’m one of the lucky ones. And where are you from?

I’ve lived everywhere. My dad’s work requires a lot of travel. Most recently, though, London.

Oh! Do you like living there?

Yes, actually. People complain about the traffic and the noise, but I think I’d be bored out in the country. At least in London, there’s always something to do.

Anna nodded. And I bet you get to see a lot of plays and art exhibits when they come through.

Only when my dad has to for business.

Don’t you enjoy them?

Nicholas looked blank. No, my dad doesn’t go in for that sort of thing. He only goes when he absolutely must. There are plenty of better things to do in London: parties and business conventions . . .

Wow, business conventions. Sounds wild.

Nicholas shrugged. I think they’re boring, but my dad likes them. And I have to learn sometime; I’m inheriting his business as soon as I graduate.

What kind of business?

Does it matter?  It makes a lot of money, that’s all I know.

So I guess your future’s pretty set, huh?

I suppose. What about you?  What course are you reading?

Now it was Anna’s turn to look blank. Umm, do you mean what subject am I studying?

"If that’s how you Americans put it, yes."

Anna shook her head. You British people really need to let go of all this bitterness. You lost the colonies, ok?  Deal with it. Move on.

Who’s bitter? laughed Nicholas. If you ask me, you sound a bit insecure for someone from such a free, confident country.

I didn’t ask you.

You should have known you were in for it, though, coming here. Get ready for worse.

Thanks for the warning, kind sir, Anna replied in her best British accent. Nicholas laughed even harder.

Do that again! Try to say something British.

Anna ignored him. "Getting back to your original question, the subject I am studying is English. Old English, specifically."

Sounds boring.

It’s much more interesting than a business convention, I’m almost sure. What about you?

What do you think? Maths and economics.

That’s ‘math’. There’s no ‘s’ on the end.

"It’s short for mathematics, isn’t it? Or do you enlightened Americans say ‘mathematic’?"

Oh, never mind.

They had come a fair way down High Street, passing the University Cathedral, impressive entrances for other colleges whose names were graven in stone over the gate, two Oxford University varsity clothing shops, and several expensive-looking cafés. Finally, Nicholas halted in front of a small entryway crammed between a small sandwich/postage convenience shop and one of the grandest colleges.

Here we are. What do you think?

Anna looked at the opening. She had mistaken it for an alley when she passed by earlier that day.

No wonder I missed it.

"What? No, that’s just an alley. That’s Saints College." Nicholas pointed to a set of three imposing double gates set amongst massive columns of stone, just a few yards beyond the entryway.

Anna could feel what little confidence she possessed beginning to drain away. A building like that would give even the most secure student an inferiority complex. "That’s Saints College?"

What do you think?

I think...I think I’m an idiot for missing this earlier.

You’re not an idiot. You’re just an American.

Ha ha.

They stepped inside. Conscious of the fact that Nicholas was watching her reaction, Anna tried to keep her jaw from dropping. At least one fourth of her entire campus back home would fit inside the main courtyard of Saints College. At least. And that was after they’d gotten past the entryway, which resembled the lobby of a small palace: wide, lined by columns, and paved and roofed with smooth stone blocks. It was also filled with more bicycles than Anna could count, all carefully lined up and locked. Nicholas nodded to the wardens in the office and guided Anna beyond the columns to the fading warmth of the sunlight on the quad.

Impressed?

Anna tried to shrug nonchalantly. Well, it’s big.

Nothing but the best for the prodigal daughter from the colonies. Nicholas checked his watch. I’d best go dress for this dinner. If you want to wait here five minutes, I could show you where the dining commons is.

Sure. Thanks for bringing me here, by the way.

No problem.  He grinned and strolled away, calling over his shoulder, Don’t wander off; you might get lost! 

Anna rolled her eyes.

It’s going to be a long term.

The light was fading quickly from the courtyard, and shadows were collecting around the columns on every side. The temperature had already dropped well past any early October evening Anna had ever experienced, but she found the change delicious; in fact, her craving for a colder climate had always made her feel out of place in the American south. She took in a deep breath, savoring the sting of it, and curled her hands deeper into the pockets of her pea coat.

Fifteen minutes later, Nicholas reappeared, more formally attired. He was of average height and build, Anna now noticed, and his eyes were blue – icy blue. The rest of his face was friendly and open, but the eyes seemed blank, as if their response to the world would always be I’ve seen better.

Oh, shut up, Anna, she told herself silently. She had a habit of over-analysis that annoyed even herself, and she had vowed to curb it while trying to meet people abroad.

All set? she asked aloud as he strolled up.

Sadly, yes. This way. He led her between two of the columns on the far side of the courtyard from the entryway, and they passed through a long, arched tunnel into another courtyard, this one smaller and surrounded on three sides by the dining commons. Light poured out of the windows and filled the courtyard like a small pool. The doors were open on two sides, and the din of voices issuing from them would have been intimidating if Anna had been by herself. Nicholas’s presence was turning out to be terribly convenient.

He guided her through the door on the left. It turned out to be one of two small dining rooms on either side of the courtyard, while the center wall housed the main dining commons. This is where Nicholas directed Anna.

All freshers have to sit in the main hall, I’m afraid, he told her as they struggled to find seats among the rows of long tables that filled the grand room. That was one thing they made very clear in orientation today. That, and that it would be very bad form to burn down your room. Or the Bodleian Library.

You don’t say!

They even made us sign a promise not to.

Well, it’s nice to know they trust you. 

Why didn’t you have to suffer through orientation today?  You’re newer than any of us. If anyone was going to burn the Bodleian, it would be a cocky American.

Ha! An overstressed native student would be much more likely. Anyway, we foreigners have our own orientation tomorrow. 

They had pushed their way through to the less-crowded tables in the back, and here they sat down, just as a man at the high table stood and called for everyone’s attention.

Welcome to the start of a new year of excellence at Saints College, he proclaimed, his softly commanding voice somehow echoing into every corner of the substantial room. Tonight, you join the ranks of hundreds of distinguished predecessors that have sat in this hall, sharing in a tradition that has graced this university since the fourteenth century.

"And he thinks that’s old?" said a voice across from Anna.

She turned to see the speaker. He was a tall, fair-haired boy in an ill-fitting tux who had apparently just sat down on the other side of the table. Anna couldn’t remember him coming in.

She and Nicholas looked at him questioningly, but he smiled a friendly smile and put a finger to his lips, indicating the man still declaiming in dignified tones from the head table. It was another ten minutes before the invocation was over and the eating began, accompanied by a din of noisy chatter and clattering dishes.

Then the stranger turned to them, still smiling. "I just meant, the fourteenth century isn’t really that old, in the grand scheme of things. He should go to Greece or Palestine if he wants to see old. I’m Edmund Mitchell – Eddie if you like. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?"

Anna liked him immediately. He had a very laidback, goofy persona, and the most disarmingly innocent face she’d ever seen. He certainly didn’t seem to have a problem taking life too seriously.

I’m Anna Merritt, and this is Nicholas Diggs.

Greetings, Mr. Diggs! Welcome to England, Miss Merritt. He shook their hands solemnly with one hand while trying to butter a roll with the other.

Where are you from, Eddie? Nicholas asked.

"Oh, hither, thither, and