Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

stop his thoughts from shooting straight to the question of what kind of torture Ren might have suffered. After all, how many times had he and Gael attempted to free Ren from Anzel's grasp? Too many to count. Each time, somehow Anzel knew they were coming and the boy was hidden from sight, spirited away as if he were a ghost, always out of reach. The repeated failures to rescue Ren had left Con with little doubt that there was a spy in Gael's palace. Someone was reporting back to Anzel, although Con had yet to discover whom it was. Even so, he and Gael had come so close to freeing Ren the last time. Con relived the absolute frustration he had felt as he watched their final rescue attempt fall to pieces before his eyes. As Con looked down at the line of the soldiers below he thought back to that disastrous night, and heard Anzel's laughter ringing in his ears once more as if he were still standing right beside him.
    He and Gael had left their small army of guards at the entrance to Anzel's palace with strict instructions that if they did not return within the pre-arranged time the soldiers were to come in after them. Gael was adamant that he and Con could make quick work of this rescue alone; and since so many other attempts had failed, Con was willing to give in to Gael's decision. They had managed to sneak past the outer guard and were on their way to Anzel's private dungeon where they had last heard report of Ren being held.
    "Con, can you tell which door leads to the dungeon?"
    Con edged his way along the corridor, clinging to the wall and moving as silently as possible. He and Gael worked together like a well-oiled machine, anticipating each other's moves. But this next part was tricky; if Con tried the wrong door it would alert Anzel and his guards to their presence and their rescue mission would be over before it began. There were three options in front of them and unfortunately, their source could not tell them which led to Anzel's private little torture chamber.
    Con wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and sent up another prayer to whatever god was listening that this time they would be successful and free Ren. The boy had been in Anzel's grip for over 4 months now and Con couldn't stand to think about what the boy may have been subjected to during that time! He had to focus on the mission at hand. Dwelling on what shape Ren might be in after this long in captivity only served to distract Con from the plan. Get in, find his cell, extract the boy and get out. It was that simple yet so fraught with the possibility of failure!
    "Con, over here—I think I've found it!"
    Con turned toward Gael and moved quietly until he was at his side. They looked at one another. Then, nodding his head, Gael turned the knob and eased the door open. What they saw inside froze them in their tracks. The room was dimly lit and ice cold. Back in one corner they could make out what appeared to be something hanging from the wall. When Con moved closer he heard Gael gasp, and then felt his friend reach out to grab his arm. It was then that the little bit of light in the room seemed to flare and the shadow on the wall morphed into a person…a young man…Ren.
    Ren was tied to a cross of sorts. Two beams shaped like a T held the boy fast. His arms drawn wide and pulled painfully tight, his legs lashed firmly to the beam. His head hung down, his hair all matted and his body filthy. Con could see the bruises across his chest and arms as if someone had beaten him with a board or paddle. With a growl, Con wrenched his arm free from Gael's ironclad grip and strode across the floor. Just as he reached Ren, lights flared more brightly in the room this time and Con stopped to shade his eyes against the glare. Then he heard it. A laugh…Anzel's laugh echoed through the room and as Con turned toward the malevolent sound the door to the cell swung shut and three guards stepped in front of it .
    "Well, look at this Renwyn, someone has come to visit you. What, nothing to say to your visitors? Oh dear, how rude of you. Perhaps a little drink might rouse you to say hello to these nice gentleman!"
    As if on cue, one of the guards tossed a bucket of water at Ren's head and shoulders, drenching him. It must have been ice cold for the boy gasped and reared back, trying to escape the flow that now dripped down his body. The water however had the desired effect. Ren raised his face to squint at the men who stood in the room. When his eyes found Con, they