The Viking Wanderer: Rift Odyssey, #1

By Samara Knight

An epic story that transcends time and space, weaving together two ancient cultures and a love that knows no bounds.

Lady Wang Mei was not looking for love; her life was occupied with managing the family estate and the obligations that befell a young gentry woman in Tang dynasty China.

When the enigmatic Leif Thorinsson literally fell into her world, her well-ordered existence was turned upside down. The alluring blacksmith awakened the fire within her, and their romance blossomed amidst cultural barriers and threats of her own impending betrothal.

While Mei navigated duty and desire, Leif grappled with his longing for a home he might never find again. Against the backdrop of a picturesque Chinese village and the wild expanse of Nordic landscapes, they must confront not only their tumultuous emotions and passions, but also the danger looming from the rift that bound their worlds together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aurion Press
• Release date: Nov 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738253906

Samara Knight

Samara Knight is dedicated to crafting tales that transport readers into enchanting worlds, filled with unforgettable characters and timeless passion. Born in Southeast Asia, she lives in the prairies with her husband and two young children.

Book preview

The Viking Wanderer

Rift Odyssey Book 1

Samara Knight

Copyright © 2023 Samara Knight

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

For JJ

Cover image of a Viking man and a Tang dynasty women

It is the north wind that lashes men into Vikings; it is the soft, luscious south wind which lulls them to lotus dreams.

— Ouida

PART ONE

Qingyun

Lady Mei looking at the sprawl of her village

Chapter One

Skyfall

In the hushed stillness of the morning air, Qingyun Village awoke to the faint fragrance of incense wafting through the air, mingling with the aroma of fresh brewed tea from the open doorways of the village's modest dwellings.

Within the elegant confines of Lingxi Manor, Lady Wang Mei, the young yet stately overseer of the household, stood before the ancestral altar. She was dressed in a modest silk robe, with muted hues that accentuated the subtle curves of her figure.

She lowered her head in reverence while arranging offerings of fruit and rice wine as a tribute to her departed husband Zhao Xin.

It had been over a year since Xin’s passing, but she was still expected to carry out mourning duties as befitting a loyal wife. The lingering exhaustion from the recently observed Tomb-Sweeping Day added to her burden, making today's rituals feel increasingly arduous.

Custom dictates that until the mourning period was over, she was to avoid wearing ornate jewelry and refrain from extravagant displays of joy or celebration. She was also to dress in somber attire of unadorned fabric, day in, day out.

She counted herself lucky that the Zhao estate prided itself in producing fine quality silks and linens. Wearing these simple yet elegant fabrics allowed her small luxury while remaining modest during the extended period of limbo.

Despite her weariness, Mei found a bit of solace in the familiar routines. They offered a semblance of stability, shielding her from the looming decision that she would soon be forced to make.

The proposition from her brother-in-law Zhao Yuan weighed heavily in her mind as she replayed their previous conversations.

If it weren't for this new law forbidding bigamy, Zhao Yuan had mused aloud, I would have made you my second wife, Mei.

Mei had been left speechless by his words. Your brother is not even cold yet, and you’re already looking to tarnish his legacy?

Zhao Yuan's handsome visage had softened, but his voice was tinged with bitterness and regret. I'm sorry. But I trust you haven't forgotten. You were promised to me first, and Xin saw fit to steal you away.

She recalled him drawing closer to her, the nostalgia in his eyes mingling with the hint of longing. We were in love once. The conversations we had, those winter nights we shared…

His words carried a weight that threatened to stir the past from its long slumber, tempting erotic memories that Mei had long buried deep within her heart.

She had replied to him: We were children back then, Yuan. These past eight years, I have been nothing but a devoted and resilient wife to Zhao Xin. You have your own family now, a loving wife and children who rely on your guidance and protection.

Zhao Yuan hadn't backed down. His gaze flickered before he straightened, his resolve once again solidifying. You have always been a part of my family, Mei, he insisted with conviction, all the more reason you should join my household, if not as a wife… then as a concubine. Xin would have wanted you to be cared for and cherished. I can offer you that, and more.

Not content with Mei's silence, Zhao Yuan finally decreed, his voice bearing the authority of his position as the new leader of the Zhao family:

In honor of my recently departed brother, you must fulfill your duties as a widow throughout the mourning period, which includes managing Lingxi Manor and its affairs. However, after that time, you will need to make a choice. Join my household, or the estate will return to the main family.

Mei's jaw clenched, a flash of anger igniting in her eyes. She bowed deeply before the altar, her silent prayer echoing through the expansive halls of the manor.

Grant me the strength to navigate the intricacies of this period with grace and fortitude, she murmured softly, her words a whispered entreaty to the spirits of the ancestors.

With diligence, she got up and opened the windows of the altar room, letting in the crisp morning air and readied herself to face the world.

✽✽✽

Throughout the day, Mei moved with quiet grace that belied the weight of her responsibilities. She started by checking on the tenant farmers, who were already hard at work against the glow of the rising sun. They tended to the lush fields that sprawled across the expanse of the estate.

As the day went on, meetings with the village elders punctuated her hours, their counsel and wisdom serving as the bedrock upon which decisions were made. She paid a visit to the textile workshop and merchant Yang Bo's office, discussing the allocation of resources, ongoing trade agreements, and the accuracy of accounts and ledger of the Zhao-Yang joint venture.

As twilight began to cast its gentle veil over the estate, Mei's steps led her to the crest of the hill that overlooked the sprawling grounds. Her chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of her breath, her gaze sweeping over the terraced fields and the bustling activity that continued even as the day waned. A sense of quiet pride swelled within, the legacy of Zhao Xin's vision and her unwavering dedication.

She basked in the tranquility of the evening, organizing her thoughts and preparing for the week ahead.

Tomorrow, she had an appointment with scholar Huang Ming, with whom she regularly discussed philosophy and the arts. Mei also reminded herself to dedicate some time to practice calligraphy, as long as her schedule permitted.

✽✽✽

The sun dipped below the horizon and Mei made her way down the hill. Her long, ebony hair cascaded down her back in a sleek, flowing wave.

The soft rustle of leaves caught her attention. She followed the sound and discovered a figure lying crumpled and broken at the crest of the hill.

There, beneath the branches of an ancient oak, lay a figure clad in unfamiliar attire, a man with long, tousled blond locks splayed across the mossy ground. A deep gash marred his arm, dyeing the earth beneath him a vivid crimson.

Mei approached cautiously, her heart racing with a mixture of trepidation and empathy, and she knelt beside the injured stranger.

She noted the intricate metalwork that adorned the edges of his leather armor, unlike anything she had seen before. His clothes were stained with dirt and blood. Despite his disheveled appearance, she sensed an underlying strength in his chiseled features and the firm set of his jaw.

Gently, she brushed a lock of golden hair from his forehead, her fingers tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his face. His eyelids fluttered, revealing eyes the color of glacial ice, startling against the earthy tones of the grasslands. He stirred, a faint murmur escaping parched lips, words in a language foreign to her ears.

Determined to offer aid, she cradled his head, noting the many bruises and gashes that marred his features. Mei strained with all her might, her muscles flexing with the effort, but the weight of the stranger proved too much for her alone. She found herself unable to budge him even an inch.

Feeling the sweat dampen her brow, she paused, catching her breath and considering her next move. She rushed downhill to see Lin Yue, the village's adept herbalist, and pleaded for her assistance. Together, they ascended the hill with a stretcher to aid the injured stranger.

As Lin Yue worked her healing arts, Mei had a feeling her life would be forever altered by this enigmatic stranger, who had fallen from the heavens and into the embrace of her world.

✽✽✽

Leif's eyes fluttered open to the softly lit interior of the bedchamber, the unfamiliar surroundings sending a surge of panic through him. Attempting to rise, he winced at the sharp pains coursing through his body.

As consciousness gradually returned, he took in the unfamiliar linen robe and britches he wore, both damp with his perspiration. His ribs and left arm were tightly bandaged, each breath feeling like a thousand little daggers piercing his chest. Unfamiliar anger surged within him, fueling the instinct to fight against an unseen threat.

Then he saw her.

A woman, her face etched with concern, hovered at the end of the canopy bed, her delicate features contrasting sharply with the turmoil within him. Dark tresses framed her fair complexion as she looked at him with elegant almond eyes and full, open lips.

He recalled her from the last time he was conscious, after stepping into the blinding light that caused him to plummet from the sky. He remembered her rescuing him, her soothing voice, and the touch of her hand on his forehead. Nonetheless, the feeling of disorientation and displacement gnawed at him. He recoiled, an instinct urging him to flee from this unknown place.

She began to speak in a language he did not understand. As his eyes darted around the room, he caught sight of the glinting metal of his dagger and his freshly cleaned armor propped on the divan behind the woman. He lunged, passing her, and clutched his blade instinctively.

The woman noticed his tension and approached cautiously. Her foreign words conveyed a soothing intent. With hesitant movements, she gestured toward the door, coaxing Leif to follow her out of the chamber, where the delicate fragrance of incense mixed with traces of morning sunlight.

With his dagger still tightly clutched in one hand, he stumbled out into the open courtyard, where more foreign decor surrounded him. He scanned the intricately carved woodwork and delicate motifs, attempting to find parallels with anything he had seen during his past travels, but nothing seemed to fit.

The aroma of steamed buns and simmering porridge wafted through the air, breaking him from his trance. The woman motioned for Leif to sit at the table.

Tentatively lowering himself onto a wooden stool, he placed his dagger on the table, but remained watchful of his surroundings.

The woman took a piece of bun and began to eat, gesturing for him to do the same. The flavors of the unfamiliar breakfast mingled on his tongue, and he realized how famished he was as he began to choke from eating too quickly.

Swiftly, she brought him a cup of water, kneeling beside him and urging him to drink. Grappling with throbbing pain in his head and ribs, he finally managed to take a closer look at his rescuer.

Who are you? he asked, gripping her hand tightly. She winced slightly but steadied herself, and he sensed an unspoken understanding pass between them, transcending the barrier of language.

She placed her other hand over her heart and enunciated her name.

Mei.

He repeated her name and slowly released his grip. To his surprise, she pressed her hand back against his chest, silently inquiring about his own identity.

Leif struggled to maintain his sense of self, finding himself in a place so foreign that he couldn't even begin to comprehend the events that had led him there.

Leif, he replied, Leif Thorinsson.

✽✽✽

The stranger's persistent urge to retrace his steps persuaded Mei to take him back to the place where she had found him. The air was mild that evening, filled with the distant sound of villagers going about their day.

Climbing up the grassy slopes, the rustling of the leaves and the occasional cawing of birds accompanied their ascent. Leif winced slightly, his hand absently grazing his side, the tenderness of his broken ribs still a persistent discomfort.

Mei guided him to the spot, her expression hopeful that they might uncover some hint, some remnant of his sudden arrival.

Upon reaching the small clearing at the top, all that greeted them was the serene, untouched landscape. No signs of disturbance, no clues left behind. Leif's eyes scanned the horizon, searching for anything that could provide a thread of explanation, but the land remained as tranquil and mysterious as ever.

Frustration mingled with his determination as he paced the area, occasionally bending down to inspect the ground and the mighty oak tree, as if the answers to his  arrival were somehow embedded in the earth. Mei stood silently, observing his every move.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Leif finally gave up his search, a sense of defeat shadowing his features. Turning to Mei, he shook his head to signal his resignation.

She reached out and gently touched his arm, offering a wordless comfort in the face of their shared disappointment.

The golden sun cast elongated shadows over the land as they made their way down. Despite his pain, Leif couldn't help but be captivated by the view that unfolded before him. The quaint village, nestled amid the undulating hills, exuded an aura of simplicity and harmony.

A gentle touch on his shoulder interrupted his reverie. You should hide, Mei whispered, her voice laced with concern. Gesturing towards a nearby copse of trees, she expressed her worries about the potential attention his sudden appearance might draw. "We don't want everyone to