She demands his life for an innocent woman's soul - Footsteps to Death [Free Preview]

Panther Ebooks
Dec 07, 2025

He broke the heart of a desert queen.
Now, she demands his life in exchange for an innocent woman’s soul.

Below is a free preview of the opening chapter of Footsteps to Death, the second book of fourty books in the Sahara Adventure Series.

FOOTSTEPS TO DEATH

Chapter 1: Two Horses

The line of men is but small and insignificant here in the immeasurable sandy wasteland of the Sahara. They trudge with heads bowed through the sand, no longer even hearing the crunch of their heavy boots. The heat of the relentless sun chastises and torments them, and their lips feel swollen and sore, but they are grateful.

They are grateful that they are returning to Dini Salam, the southern outpost of the French Foreign Legion. Away from this vast desert where the rebellious Arabs, as cruel as one can find, are not their greatest enemies, but rather the sand and the heat.

“Do not weep, brothers, and do not mourn either,” says Fritz Mundt, the colossal German. “Before the sun withdraws its head, we shall be in that hive of flies they call Dini Salam... Do you not look forward to seeing your esteemed comrades of the garrison again?”

Most of the ten fellows marching here clearly snort their disapproval. They are indeed grateful that their patrol work through the desert is now almost behind them. However, they simply cannot muster enthusiasm for this miserable Dini Salam now. It is a stinking old Arab town full of dirty, oppressive blacks, groaning camels, and braying donkeys.

“You have a strange sense of humour, old giant,” says Teuns Stegmann, the tall, athletic South African with his bright blond curly hair and lively blue eyes, walking here beside Fritz Mundt. “What do you find so amusing about this wretched Dini Salam? It is just a den, a dark cavern full of drama.”

“Yes, but you have no taste for the finer things, Teuns,” Fritz playfully counters. “Can one drink a little tipple here in the desert? Can one lie here on one’s back in the shade and think of the days when one was still human? Does one ever see the swish of a skirt here, brother?”

“Hear, hear!” breaks in Jack Ritchie, the lanky Englishman. “But Teuns hasn’t bothered with women since he was involved with El Karima.”

These words hurt Teuns Stegmann. He does not even look at the Englishman. His thoughts fly back to those few days, more than six months ago, when he was involved with El Karima, the fair leader of the Doelaks. The most beautiful of all beautiful women he had ever seen. He thinks of their thrilling hours together in the palace of Doetra, where she gave him her love. He had been her prisoner, just like so many of his comrades. But she had loved him. And then he had betrayed her.

El Karima, the white woman with her blonde hair and deep blue eyes. El Karima, the fiend who shows no mercy.

“Don’t hurt old Teuns,” mocks Fritz Mundt. “El Karima holds tender memories for him. But if she ever gets her hands on him again, she’ll surely skin him alive, won’t she, mon ami?”

The next moment, it is as if something snaps inside Teuns Stegmann. The movement of his long, slender body is like that of a mamba. The short hook connects with the point of the large Fritz Mundt’s jaw, and the German crashes down like an ox onto the hot sand.

“What the devil is going on here?” bellows Sergeant Vermeer.

“A small misunderstanding, mon officier,” says Fritz almost pleadingly, dusting off the sand. “It is all right again now.”

As the column moves forward again, the mood shifts. They have reached the high crest of the dune, and then they all see it simultaneously. A cluster of circling vultures in the sky, to the north of them, but not far ahead.

Sergeant Vermeer raises his hand, and the short column immediately comes to a halt.

“Hmm,” snorts Fritz Mundt, “looks like we are not going to have such an uninteresting journey after all?”

Finally, they emerge onto the crest of a horseshoe dune, and below them, in the depression between the two dunes, they see a dense cluster of vultures bundling and fighting.

Here before them lie two dead horses.

They are two riding horses. The bloodied saddles still sit askew on their backs, which have already been mangled by the vultures.

“Just two horses, not particularly interesting,” says Jack Ritchie, almost a little disappointed.

“It is more than interesting,” says Fritz Mundt. “Can’t you see the blood on the sand? And the saddles... Not Arab saddles, nor French saddles. These are two Spanish women’s side-saddles...!”

Vermeer hastily goes to look, and his experience of the desert has already taught him that these tracks were made very recently. “Zakof, Petacci,” he orders. “Go up onto the dunes immediately and reconnoitre.”

Suddenly Teuns points with his hand at the ground. “Here, mon Sergent, this track. It is the track of a woman.”

“By my cabbages,” says Vermeer, panting. “It is a woman’s track. What the devil could have happened here?”

“Mon Sergent,” Jack Ritchie suddenly calls out and comes running towards the sergeant with something in his hand. He stops in front of Vermeer and holds out a small golden locket with its chain.

Vermeer stares bewilderedly at the locket. It is in the shape of a crescent moon and a few stars. The crescent moon is made of small, glowing rubies, and the stars are tiny sparkling diamonds. Vermeer opens the locket, and sees a lock of hair, short and light blonde.

When Vermeer looks up in surprise, he looks straight into the eyes of Teuns Stegmann. Teuns turns completely white in the face.

“The, I, that locket,” Teuns murmurs. “El Karima. It belongs to El Karima of the Doelaks, Sergeant. I saw the locket around her neck in Doetra. The lock of hair is mine. She ordered me to give it to her back then.”

Teuns’s whole body trembles, for he knows what will happen if El Karima ever gets her hands on him again. And he narrowly missed encountering her here in the dunes just now.

“So, then our El Karima was here just now,” says Vermeer. “Then she carried off these two women riders. I think the ball is rolling again in the Sahara.”

Back at the garrison...

Colonel Le Clerq, commander of the garrison in Dini Salam, leans back in his office chair.

“This is one of the few happy days in my life, D’Arlan,” says Le Clerq. “It has been six months since I last saw my wife. And now she is here, here with me. A silver wedding anniversary is a great day in any man’s life.”

Suddenly there is a loud knock, and the orderly enters. “Sergeant Vermeer, mon Colonel. He wishes to speak to you immediately.”

Vermeer enters, red in the face, the sweat visible in large dark patches on his uniform.

“Mon Colonel,” says Vermeer with his chapped lips. “Ten kilometres from here, between the first high dunes, we found two horses dead. The riders have disappeared. El Karima was there, and here is her locket.” He places it on the desk.

“What are you saying, Vermeer?” whispers Le Clerq very softly.

“The two riders were overpowered, mon Colonel. We determined that two women rode the horses.”

Le Clerq’s tanned skin has turned greyish-white. His eyes are fixed. He slowly sinks into his chair. When he speaks again, he screams unnaturally loudly.

“D’Arlan,” he screams, “my Antoinette is in the hands of El Karima!”

The Ultimatum has been delivered.
Teuns Stegmann is haunted by two things: The brutal Sahara heat and the memory of El Karima, the beautiful, merciless Arab leader he once loved and then betrayed.

His past comes crashing down when El Karima kidnaps his commander’s wife, offering a simple, savage ultimatum: Her life for his.

Teuns knows the death awaiting him is one of unimaginable torture, a public spectacle of vengeance for the woman he wronged. Yet, to refuse is to condemn an innocent woman to that same fate and force his commander into an impossible choice that will stain the honor of the French Foreign Legion forever.

Every footstep in the sand could be his last.

Filled with tension, action, and forbidden romance, Footsteps to Death vividly captures the Sahara’s peril and passion of the 1930s. Perfect for fans of Wilbur Smith’s epic adventures and the classic suspense of Alistair MacLean.

Missed Book 1?
Catch up on how the rivalry began in Witch of the Sahara.

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