Footsteps to Death E-Book

Meiring Fouche

• Herausgeber: Pieter Haasbroek
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Sahara Adventure Series
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 200

Beschreibung

2. SAHARA ADVENTURE SERIES - Footsteps to Death

“Footsteps to Death”, is the sequel to “Witch of the Sahara” by Meiring Fouche’s thrilling Sahara adventure series. Set in the scorching Sahara desert, the story follows Legionnaire Teuns Stegmann whose past encounter with the beautiful but deadly El Karima has left him entangled in her web once more. Can Teuns resist El Karima’s intoxicating charm or will he succumb to the passions that bind them?

Six months after betraying El Karima’s love and destroying her Dulac nation, Teuns finds himself drawn back into her clutches when two mysterious riders are ambushed near the desert outpost of Dini Salam. Among their possessions is discovered a locket belonging to none other than El Karima herself, confirming the white princess of the Dulacs is behind the abduction. In exchange for the riders, El Karima demands Teuns be handed over to face punishment for his treachery. But one of the captives is revealed to be Madame Le Clerq, wife of the garrison commander Colonel Le Clerq. Now torn between sacrificing Teuns or his own wife, Le Clerq faces an impossible choice. Against orders, Teuns takes matters into his own hands and escapes into the desert accompanied by El Karima’s envoy, the Arab Kadar Hoessein. Enduring injury and the unrelenting elements, they arrive at El Karima’s encampment. While she still harbors feelings for her betrayer, will her desire for vengeance prevail? Meanwhile, back in Dini Salam, the master escape artist of the Legion, Captain D’Arlan, hatches a daring plan to rescue the hostages and defend the fort against El Karima’s impending attack. But with time running out and lives on the line, has El Karima’s web become inescapable?

In this gripping tale of war, betrayal, and forbidden romance, Fouche delivers nonstop adventure and drama. When Teuns refuses to join her tribe and train her men, the stakes climb ever higher as Teuns finds himself in a brutal hand-to-hand duel to the death against Atroek, El Karima’s formidable henchman. Their contest will determine not only Teuns’ fate but that of Madame Le Clerq as well. Karima’s treachery knows no bounds. Consumed by bitterness and the desire for revenge, El Karima condemns Teuns, Madame Le Clerq, and El Saoed to a horrific public execution in Dini Salam. Her promises to return Madame Le Clerq unharmed were but empty words, concealing her true intent. Now along with Teuns and El Saoed, Madame Le Clerq faces a gruesome end bound between wild stallions who will tear them limb from limb.

In this racing page-turner, Fouche maintains breathless suspense as the condemned three stand poised on the brink of death. Can the ingenious Captain D’Arlan come up with a daring plan to save Teuns, Madame Le Clerq, and the entire Dini Salam garrison from utter destruction at the hands of the vengeful El Karima? What shocking choice must Colonel Le Clerq make to try and save his beloved wife from a gruesome fate? As El Karima raises her whip, will salvation arrive in time or has she finally outmatched D’Arlan and checkmated Teuns? Brimming with rivalry and passion, and dramatic twists and turns, “Footsteps to Death” captivates from desert ambush to palace showdown. Fouche transports the reader with vibrant details directly into the milieu of the 1930s Sahara. It is a land full of danger and desires in this sweeping tale of warfare, sacrifice, and star-crossed romance set against the perilous backdrop of the unforgiving Sahara. Full of memorable characters, a rich historical atmosphere, and heart-pounding action, “Footsteps to Death” is a thrilling addition to The Sahara Adventure series. This ebook will have adventure lovers and romance readers alike racing through the pages to learn the fates of Teuns, El Karima, and the embattled Legionnaires of Dini Salam.

Leseprobe

FOOTSTEPS TO DEATH

by

MEIRING FOUCHE

and

translated by

ANDELENE BRITS

Published by:

TREASURE CHEST BOOKS - PUBLISHERS

Strand Mews Strand

2023

FOOTSTEPS TO DEATH

The sketch on the cover page was generated with AI software.

This book is the third edition (updated version) and the first edition translated into English.

Copyright in this work is strictly reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the publisher’s written permission. All the characters and the events in this story are fictitious and do not relate to any person, living or dead.

FOOTSTEPS TO DEATH

by Meiring Fouche and translated by Andelene Brits

ISBN 978-1-928498-62-9

Published by:

Treasure Chest Books - Publishers, Strand Mews,

Strand, 7140

South Africa

Copyright @ Pieter Haasbroek (2023)

Online Store:https://panther-ebooks.com

Website:https://www.softcoverbooks.co.za

ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

“Andelene Brits was born in Paarl in 1966, the youngest of three daughters. I attended Paarl Gymnasium and matriculated there in 1983. After that, I worked in financial institutions. I got married in 1989, and I have three sons. I do not have grandchildren yet, only a lot of dogs! For the last twenty years, I have been a housewife. I have written many stories over the years but have never published anything, although writing is my passion. I love books and have a whole library in my house. I go and browse in second-hand bookstores for treasures. My other passion is people, and I do charity work for those in need. There is not much more I can say about myself, just that what I am doing now is something I have been waiting for all my life to do. Deal with the written word. Words are power. Thank you.”

SUMMARY

“Footsteps to Death”, is the sequel to “Witch of the Sahara” by Meiring Fouche’s thrilling Sahara adventure series. Set in the scorching Sahara desert, the story follows Legionnaire Teuns Stegmann whose past encounter with the beautiful but deadly El Karima has left him entangled in her web once more. Can Teuns resist El Karima’s intoxicating charm or will he succumb to the passions that bind them?

Six months after betraying El Karima’s love and destroying her Dulac nation, Teuns finds himself drawn back into her clutches when two mysterious riders are ambushed near the desert outpost of Dini Salam. Among their possessions is discovered a locket belonging to none other than El Karima herself, confirming the white princess of the Dulacs is behind the abduction. In exchange for the riders, El Karima demands Teuns be handed over to face punishment for his treachery. But one of the captives is revealed to be Madame Le Clerq, wife of the garrison commander Colonel Le Clerq. Now torn between sacrificing Teuns or his own wife, Le Clerq faces an impossible choice. Against orders, Teuns takes matters into his own hands and escapes into the desert accompanied by El Karima’s envoy, the Arab Kadar Hoessein. Enduring injury and the unrelenting elements, they arrive at El Karima’s encampment. While she still harbors feelings for her betrayer, will her desire for vengeance prevail? Meanwhile, back in Dini Salam, the master escape artist of the Legion, Captain D’Arlan, hatches a daring plan to rescue the hostages and defend the fort against El Karima’s impending attack. But with time running out and lives on the line, has El Karima’s web become inescapable?

In this gripping tale of war, betrayal, and forbidden romance, Fouche delivers nonstop adventure and drama. When Teuns refuses to join her tribe and train her men, the stakes climb ever higher as Teuns finds himself in a brutal hand-to-hand duel to the death against Atroek, El Karima’s formidable henchman. Their contest will determine not only Teuns’ fate but that of Madame Le Clerq as well. Karima’s treachery knows no bounds. Consumed by bitterness and the desire for revenge, El Karima condemns Teuns, Madame Le Clerq, and El Saoed to a horrific public execution in Dini Salam. Her promises to return Madame Le Clerq unharmed were but empty words, concealing her true intent. Now along with Teuns and El Saoed, Madame Le Clerq faces a gruesome end bound between wild stallions who will tear them limb from limb.

In this racing page-turner, Fouche maintains breathless suspense as the condemned three stand poised on the brink of death. Can the ingenious Captain D’Arlan come up with a daring plan to save Teuns, Madame Le Clerq, and the entire Dini Salam garrison from utter destruction at the hands of the vengeful El Karima? What shocking choice must Colonel Le Clerq make to try and save his beloved wife from a gruesome fate? As El Karima raises her whip, will salvation arrive in time or has she finally outmatched D’Arlan and checkmated Teuns? Brimming with rivalry and passion, and dramatic twists and turns, “Footsteps to Death” captivates from desert ambush to palace showdown. Fouche transports the reader with vibrant details directly into the milieu of the 1930s Sahara. It is a land full of danger and desires in this sweeping tale of warfare, sacrifice, and star-crossed romance set against the perilous backdrop of the unforgiving Sahara. Full of memorable characters, a rich historical atmosphere, and heart-pounding action, “Footsteps to Death” is a thrilling addition to The Sahara Adventure series. This ebook will have adventure lovers and romance readers alike racing through the pages to learn the fates of Teuns, El Karima, and the embattled Legionnaires of Dini Salam.

EXTRACT

At that moment, Akbra Krim raises his bejeweled sword into the air, out there in the desert, and then he lowers it again. It flashes in the early sunlight.

There is the thundering of hooves, and a thousand, young Dulacs, their lips dry, because it is their first fight and they are nervous, are racing in a circle towards the Legion soldiers.

The older warriors give their battle cry and look in satisfaction at the spectacle. Then, at a hundred paces away, the Dulacs jump from their horses, and with a terrible cry, they storm the columns of Captain D’Arlan. The war cry is enough to scare even the most formidable soldier.

“Death to the Legion…” the Arab officer leading them, shouts. He wanted to add the word “dogs”, but he does not get the chance because when he is fifty paces away from the Legion men, he falls forward with two bullet wounds in his chest.

He had not even heard when D’Arlan had blown loudly on his whistle. He does not hear the deafening sounds of the salvos stuttering over the desert because he dies right there, with his face in the cool sand.

2. FOOTSTEPS TO DEATH

Chapter 1

TWO HORSES

The line of men is small and insignificant against the backdrop of the vast, sandy wasteland of the Sahara. They move listlessly through the sand, with their heads bowed down, and they are even unaware of the crunching of their heavy boots in the sand. The heat of the relentless sun tortures and pains them. Their lips are dry and sore, but still, they are grateful. They are grateful that they are returning to Dini Salam, the southern front post of the French Foreign Legion. They are happy to get away from this colossal desert, where the warlike, cruel Arabs are not your biggest enemy, but the sand and the heat.

“Do not cry or lament, brothers,” says Fritz Mundt, the colossal German. “Before the sun had gone down, we will be back in that fly-infested nest they call Dini Salam - that famous place where we can drink some wine again and think about how the Arabs can smell when the sun is scorching. Are you not looking forward to seeing your esteemed friends of the garrison again? Are you not looking forward to the wonderful drill exercises?”

Most of the ten men walking here snort in disgust. They are grateful that their patrol work through the desert is nearing its end and that it will not be expected of them to do it again for at least the next three months. However, they find it impossible to get excited over that miserable Dini Salam. It is a stinking, old Arab town full of dirty, milling blacks, groaning camels, and braying donkeys. There are also millions of flies that land on you as soon as you arrive there.

But still, Dini Salam is better than the torture of patrolling through the desert. Patrol work! This patrol they are returning from was useless, as they did not even see as much as a vulture. They have come across no strange tracks and have not seen a dead camel or an Arab.

“You have a strange sense of humor, big guy,” says Teuns Stegmann, walking beside Fritz Mundt. Stegmann is a tall, athletically built, South African with lively blue eyes and a shock of blonde hair.

“What is it that attracts you to Dini Salam? It is merely a nest, a dark cave full of drama. Sometimes I would rather walk through the desert than spend time in that hole.”

“Yes, but it is because you have no taste for the finer things in life,” Fritz retorts playfully. “Can a man have a little drink here in the desert? Can you lie on your back here in the shade and think about the days when you were still a human being? Do you ever see the swish of a dress out here, brother? And what life is worth living if a man cannot see a dress now and then?”

“Hear-hear!” Jack Ritchie, the scrawny Englishman, throws in. “But it seems that Teuns is not interested in women anymore since he has been mixed up with El Karima.”

These words hurt Teuns Stegmann, who does not even look at the Englishman. Instead, his thoughts go back to those couple of days, already more than six months ago, when he had been involved with El Karima, the beautiful leader of the Dulac Arabs. She is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. He thinks back to the exciting hours when they had been together in the palace of Dutra, where she had given him her love. He was her prisoner, the same as his fellow soldiers, but she had loved him. And then he had betrayed her.

El Karima, the white woman with blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and a stunning body, became the princess of the Dulacs.

She is also El Karima, the cruel who has no mercy for her enemies.

Once more, he sees her eyes in front of him and feels the soft burning of her lips on his. He feels her magnificent body pressed against him and can still smell the scent of her glossy hair.

“Do not hurt old Teuns,” Fritz Mundt teases. “He has tender memories of her, but if she ever finds him again, she will surely skin him alive, or what am I saying, mon ami?”

The big German looks down at Teuns and sees the young South African’s eyes shooting sparks.

“You have a lot to say today, Fritz Mundt,” Teuns warns, slowly balling his hands into fists.

“The last time she had you on the rack,” the German continues, as if unaware of the threat in Teuns’ words. “But this time, she will tie you up between the wild horses, brother. Have you ever seen how the Dulacs use that form of torture?”

The next moment it is as if a coil jumps loose inside Teuns Stegmann. The movement of his tall, lithe body is like that of a mamba. The short jab collides with the big Fritz Mundt’s chin, and at first, he staggers to the side before falling on the hot sand. His eyes are prominent in shock and astonishment. Then anger breaks out in him when the other men start to laugh uproariously.

“You damn rubbish!” the German says threateningly and jumps up from the sand.

Teuns places himself squarely in front of Fritz, but a voice cuts through the hot silence even before the German is fully upright again.

“What in the devil is going on here? Are you a bunch of thugs, or are you soldiers of the French Foreign Legion?”

It is Sergeant Vermeer speaking, the short Dutchman with bald head and bow legs.

“What is going on here?” he roars again.

Fritz Mundt, respectively dusting off his clothes and touching his sore chin because that little jab of Teuns had hurt him badly, answers pleadingly.

“A small misunderstanding, mon officier. Everything is fine now.”

Fritz looks into the blue eyes of the South African and sees the small smile forming on Teuns’ attractive face. His beard is already thick and dark because they have been in the desert for a week to try and determine what the Arabs are up to.

“Put your misunderstandings away till later,” says the patient Vermeer. “I have no time for nonsense right now.”

“Qui, mon Sergent,” Fritz Mundt says submissively, but his eyes are alive with joy and mischief.

“Forward!” orders Vermeer, and the small columns start to move slowly again, up the gradually sloping dune, where the last sandstorm had made patterns in the sand. It looks like flat waves in the ocean.

Teuns looks up at Fritz.

“I am sorry, big guy, I lost my temper.”

“You hit like a Spanish mule would kick, mon ami,” Fritz says and touches his chin. “You are the first person who has managed to strike me down in a long time.”

The German suddenly lurches forward because Jack Ritchie, walking just behind him, had tripped him.

Fritz does not retaliate because just then, Vermeer looks back quickly to see if his small columns are marching, befitting the French Foreign Legion patrol.

“Speaking of El Karima,” says Podolski, the Pole, from behind them. “I wonder what is going on in her head. I do not trust this silence. I swear she is cooking up something again. From that day onwards, that she had slipped away from Stegmann in Dutra on her dapple-gray horse, nobody has heard anything about her again.”

Fritz Mundt, who considers himself the oracle of the garrison in Dini Salam, shrugs with his big shoulders, loosens his water flask, and takes a sip.

“I think we will hear from her again, much sooner than we imagine,” he says. “She is not the type that sits still for too long. On that day in Dutra, we killed many of the Dulacs and destroyed their armory, but where are all the other Dulacs now? Where are all the Arabs? One of these days, she will cause trouble for us again. She had promised that a holy war would break out, which is what we will get. The devil will run loose then, mes amis. If all the Arabs come down on us, there will be hell to pay.”

“Why did not they send a bunch of us to go and occupy Dutra? Instead, she shall merely return and occupy the place once more,” says Jack Ritchie.

“Lord Haw-haw,” Fritz Mundt mocks the Englishman. “Try to remember that you are only a soldier. You are not supposed to think or have an opinion about what the big guns are doing. You must only march and shoot when necessary. If you talk too much, you might end up against the wall. So who are you and I to wonder why Algiers is not doing this or that? Maybe they think El Karima is finished after we mistreated her garrison in Dutra. Maybe they think she had fled to Timbuktu or that she has taken a man and is sitting quite happily underneath a palm tree somewhere in the Sahara.”

“She will just as little sit still as a hardworking ant,” says Jack Ritchie, but does not speak further.

They have reached a dune’s high crest, and all see it simultaneously. Not too far in front of them and to the north, they notice a swarm of milling vultures in the air. Sergeant Vermeer puts up his hand, and the short columns halt immediately. He puts his binoculars in front of his eyes.

“Hmmm,” Fritz Mundt snorts, “it looks to me as if our journey will not be quite so boring after all.”

“Could be a dead camel lying there,” Teuns Stegmann sighs and lowers him onto the warm sand to rest awhile. Fritz and the other men also sit down, with groans all around.

“I feel that that is not just a camel in my bones. Why would a camel die so near to Dini Salam?” Fritz says.

“What else then?” Teuns wants to know.

“Maybe one of Father Christmas’ reindeers had died there,” Fritz mocks, and he rolls a cigarette with a piece of paper and some fine tobacco. He lights it up and hands it to Teuns and Jack Ritchie to take some puffs. Teuns pulls a face.

“Where did you find this rubbish?” he asks and spits into the sand.

Fritz leans over and whispers to the South African.

“I stole it last night out of Zakof’s bag. I suppose it is the kind of tobacco the Russians smoke.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Jack Ritchie admonishes him mockingly.

“Why should I be ashamed? And for what? Zakof is only a Russian and not a human being. He had told me that once when he told Lieutenant Juin that I had hidden half a bottle underneath my mattress.”

“Forward march!” orders Vermeer from the side, and the men get up and follow him down the dune. Vermeer is moving fast now, and the men follow suit because they are curious to see what the vultures are busy with. Most of these men had seen death before, many times, and quite terrible at that, but still, like any other person, death holds a morbid attraction for them. Finally, they reach the crest of a horseshoe-shaped dune, and below them, in the clearing between two dunes, they see a thick swarm of fighting vultures. They are cawing to and fro, and there is the soft rustling of wings. Some cannot reach the bait, retake flight and circle the spot overhead. Vermeer quickly leads the men down the dune towards the street between the dunes. When they approach, they start scaring off the fighting birds with the barrels of their rapid-firing rifles. Only then can they see what is lying there.

In front of them are two dead horses, and they are riding horses. The blood-soaked saddles are still on their backs, but half askew, and the greedy birds had ravished them.

“It is only two horses and is not particularly interesting,” Jack Ritchie says, slightly disappointed.

“It is more than interesting,” says Fritz Mundt.

“Why is that?” Podolski wants to know.

“Can you not see the blood on the sand?” Teuns asks the Pole.

“Yes, they did not die a natural death, you Polish baboon,” Fritz Mundt teases.

“And look at the saddles,” says Teuns, “Neither Arabic nor French saddles. Those are two Spanish saddles that women use!”

“It sounds as if you have been in the Prussic Cavalry,” Vermeer tells Teuns while walking around the horses to inspect them. The vultures above them protest loudly that their feasting had been so rudely interrupted.

“But, it is the truth, mon Sergent,” says Fritz Mundt.

Teuns kneels next to the horses and says.

“Here is something else, mon Sergent.”

Vermeer crouches down next to the South African.

“Hmmm, it seems as if they had been shot on purpose,” Vermeer finds.

Fritz sticks his hand in underneath the flank of one of the horses.

“It is still warm, so it must have happened a short while ago, mon Sergent,” he says.

“Every baboon knows that, otherwise, the vultures would already have picked their bones clean by now,” Vermeer says haughtily.

“Yes, indeed, these are women’s saddles,” adds Sergeant Vermeer.

“Over here are some fresh horse tracks, mon Sergent.” Jack Ritchie, who had found deep tracks in the sand, tells him. Vermeer quickly looks at it, and because of his experience of the desert, he realizes that the tracks are still very fresh.

“Zakof! Petacci!” he orders the Russian and the petite Italian. “Go up to the dunes immediately and scout the area. Lie down flat behind the dunes’ crests and ensure you are not seen under any circumstances.”

The two start jogging up the dunes, Zakof in one direction and Petacci in another. Vermeer and the other men inspect the terrain, and suddenly Teuns signals with his hand toward the sand.

“Here, mon Sergent, these tracks are the tracks of a woman.”

Vermeer goes over to him, inspects the tracks, and concurs. It is most definitely a woman’s track, quite clearly etched into the sand, at the place where a horse had stood.

“By Jove, you are right!” Vermeer wheezes. “It is the track of a woman. What the devil had happened here?”

Fritz and some others move in a wide circle around the place, and then Fritz gives his finding.

“Arabs, mon Sergent, some Arabs were here, and I think they have abducted the two riders from their horses because there was a struggle here.”

Vermeer rushes over to the German. Yes, the picture is becoming clear in his head now while he inspects the pattern of the horse tracks in the sand. Whoever had been riding on these horses had been abducted. The horses possibly had been shot to prevent them from returning to Dini Salam. It is also clear that the two riders had come from Dini Salam, but why? And who were the two riders?

“Mon Sergent!” Ritchie suddenly calls out and runs towards the sergeant with something in his hand. He stops in front of Vermeer and holds out an object to him. It is a small golden locket hanging from a chain. Vermeer stares at it in shock. He is experienced enough to know that the locket is pure gold. It is in the form of a crescent and stars, the half-moon shape is made out of tiny, glowing rubies, and the stars are made of sparkling diamonds.

“Mon Dieu!” Vermeer whispers. “This is no ordinary locket. This jewel must be worth tens of thousands of rands!”

Vermeer opens the locket, and in amazement, he finds that a lock of hair is nestled inside. It is short and light blonde. When Vermeer looks up in astonishment, he looks into the eyes of Teuns Stegmann, who had also approached. The next moment, Teuns looks at the locket in Vermeer’s hand, paling visibly. Then, as if he is a magnet, all the men’s attention is now fixed on Teuns. They look at him questioningly and searchingly. He looks quickly and furtively at the men staring at him, and he cannot understand their looks, but maybe they know…

He breathes quickly through his nose. His breath is coming out in hot bursts. He knows he should talk, but his lips refuse to move. It seems as if his voice has died inside of him and if death has touched him with a cold hand against his cheek. He shudders. He feels hot and cold simultaneously, and sweat breaks out on his neck. Somebody coughs behind him. With his huge body, Fritz Mundt stands next to him, and Jack Ritchie is on his other side.

“The… I… that locket…” Teuns murmurs but gets no further.

“Yes, Private Stegmann?” Vermeer’s voice is nearly friendly.

“El Karima… It belongs to El Karima of the Dulacs, mon Sergent.”

Teuns’ body is trembling because he knows what will happen if El Karima lays her hands on him again. And he had just missed her here between the dunes! The other men also breathe heavily, their chests slowly moving in and out. They are shocked. Teuns sees Vermeer looking at the lock of hair and then at him again.

“I have seen the locket around her neck in Dutra. The lock of hair is mine. She had ordered me back then to give it to her.”