by Terry Brooks
By the Second War of the Races, men from Leah were fighting side by side with those of the fledgling border outposts in an effort to stop the southward advance of the Northland army. Their battle cry, “Leah! Leah!” was heard often on those bloody battlefields. Many towns and villages fell under the assault, but the Northlanders were stopped well short of the Rainbow Lake and Leah. The legacy of the fighting sons of Leah began with their battles against the Trolls in that war. Once the war was over, the people of the Highlands proclaimed the elder Leah as King, thereby becoming the first monarchy south of the Dragon’s Teeth.
Menion Leah, hero of Kern.
The new king created a standing army, headed by the survivors of the War with the Warlock Lord, which was dedicated to the protection of the people of Leah and of their rural neighbors. He built the city into a walled fortress large enough to protect all the citizens of his land. “So long as there were Leahs on the throne,” he vowed, “there would always be warriors ready to defend the Kingdom.”
For the next six hundred years, the Leah family ruled in an unbroken line of succession, beloved by the people as benevolent caretakers and lauded for their attention to the well-being of their people and their land. The Leahs were the only government the tiny kingdom had ever known or wanted. Under their guidance the Highlands flourished.
The Sword of Leah
Almost as well known as the Sword of Shannara, the Sword of Leah was originally forged as the Sword of State for the Kingdom of Leah. Bearing the royal markings and colors of Leah, it eventually became part of the royal regalia for the Crown Prince of Leah, to be handed down to the new heir at his coming of age. Beautifully wrought and balanced, the sword was worn across the back in the Highlander fashion in a scabbard of fine leather also bearing the royal seal. It was considered one of the finest weapons in the Southland despite the fact that, for many years, it rarely saw usage outside of ceremonial events.
But the Sword proved itself to be a valuable weapon in the hands of Prince Menion, who wielded it skillfully in many skirmishes against foes, both mortal and not, in the War of the Warlock Lord. He proudly handed his honored blade down to his son and heir, Owain.
Owain Leah retired the honored blade, now battered from hard use, and commissioned a new sword for his heir. But the Sword of Leah was not content to remain in retirement. Rone Leah, Menion’s great grandson, was drawn to the old blade despite its worn and battered hilt and scabbard. The blade was still serviceable, having been given expert care over the years. Rone’s father noticed his admiration of the weapon, and gifted Rone with the sword as a small symbol of his standing as the youngest Prince of Leah. Rone needed a way to protect his friend Brin Ohmsford on her quest to destroy the Ildatch, a quest given her by the Druid Allanon. But Rone and his cold iron blade were no match for the eldritch creatures they had to face. To be her protector he needed magical help. Allanon gave him that help at the shores of the Hadeshorn.
The Sword of Leah
Rone Leah later wrote: “The Druid bade me dip the Sword of Leah into the deadly waters of the Lake. I did not know what to expect. I carefully lowered the blade into the swirling waters until it was completely submerged, being careful to keep my hands clear. As the metal touched the lake, the waters boiled and hissed about the blade as though they were alive. After a moment, the boiling stopped, and Allanon bade me remove the sword from the water. When I did, the polished silver sheen of the blade was gone; it had turned black, covered with the waters of the Hadeshorn, which clung to it, swirling as if alive. I almost dropped the sword to see it move so. But Allanon was not done. Blue druid fire flared from his fingertips along the length of the sword. He said he was fusing the water and metal into one. When he was done, the blade was clean and its edges true. Its surface was a black mirror with murky green pools of light swirling lazily just below the surface. I knew it was magic! But the magic was not just in the blade. I could feel the sword’s power, as I had never done when it was merely iron. It was now a part of me in a way I did not understand until much later, both a wondrous gift and a magical curse.”
The transformation allowed the Sword of Leah to cut and parry magic as well as physical attacks. Rone discovered the sword could now destroy even Mord Wraiths, whose magic made them immune to conventional weapons. A direct cut from the sword turned most magical creatures to piles of black ash. But, as with all magic, it was both light and dark. Its magic created a dependency on the sword that grew with every use.
Rone Leah was the first to taste the magic of the sword. His addiction to it nearly cost Brin Ohmsford her life. He managed to come to terms with his need for the magic in time to aid Brin in the Battle at the Maelmord.
After the campaign against the Ildatch, Rone realized how powerful and dangerous the sword could be, and retired it rather than pass it to his children. It remained in a place of honor in the Palace of Leah, and was one of the artifacts carefully removed before the Federation confiscated the Palace. The magic inherent of the sword became a legend told to the sons of Leah to remind them of the days of their kingdom’s greatness.
Three hundred years later, Morgan Leah requested the old sword. No one else was interested in the ancient relic in its battered scabbard. His father gave it to him, having never used it himself. By this time, the tales of its magic were considered nothing more than a way to explain the strange black finish on the blade that never dulled. Its scabbard had been replaced many times, and the hilt half as many, but the blade was still sharp and true. Morgan simply wanted a good blade; preferably, one that would remind him of the legacy his family had lost to the Federation. He was doubtless surprised, during his first battle with a Shadowen, to discover that the magic was real. But Morgan also discovered the dark side of the sword’s power. The magic’s use drained him during long battles, and bonded him, body and soul, to the sword. He later wrote: “The sword seemed to be using me even as I was using it. I thought it was killing me, but I could not stop.”
The sword’s power was not invincible, however. In a desperate battle against the Shadowen in their Pit in Tyrsis, he shattered the blade while escaping. The remnant of the magic saved him in a battle with a Shadowen Spy at the Free-Born Stronghold at the Jut. The sword remained broken until the elemental Quickening restored it upon her death as a reward to Morgan for his love and bravery.
Morgan went on to use the restored sword’s magic against the Shadowen in the battle of Southwatch. He also carried it during the battles to liberate the Eastland, though its magic was not needed, merely its steel.
After the Federation was driven from the East and the Borderlands, the Sword was again retired and put on display in the Leah manor house as an honored part of the Leah heritage. It remained there for nearly a century, until Corran Leah gave it to his oldest son Quentin to use on his voyage on the Jerle Shannara with the Druid Walker Boh.
The magic of the sword has kept the blade in mint condition for hundreds of years. It is a magic that responds only to the threat of other magic. It cannot be activated by will or for simple curiosity. As a weapon of both metal and magic, the Sword of Leah has served the need of the brave sons of Leah, even as they have served the need of the Four Lands in battles against dark magic.
By the time of the War of the Warlock Lord, Leah was the oldest kingdom in the Southland. The Crown Prince, Menion Leah, acquitted himself with honor during the war and is credited with saving the people of Kern and helping to defend Tyrsis during the final battle with the Warlock Lord’s forces. After that war, Leah formed an official alliance with Callahorn and the Borderlands. Menion cemented that commitment by marrying a daughter of the former kings of Kern.
Protected by their isolated location, the Highlands were never attacked directly, yet the Leahs continued to pass the knowledge of battle and hunting from father to son so that skills honed in the wars would not be lost. Though they never had to defend their own borders, the warrior princes of Leah and their descendants carved a path of honor through most of t
he major conflicts within the Four Lands.
Unfortunately, their courage and fighting skills proved useless against the enemy that finally took their kingdom. Nine hundred years after Leah was established, the oldest monarchy in the South fell without a battle, devoured by the Federation. Overpowered and outnumbered by the Federation war machine, the King of Leah gave up his throne without a fight rather than endanger his people in what would have been a useless massacre. In exchange, the family members were allowed to keep their freedom and most of their lands. The Federation made Leah a protectorate, abolishing the monarchy and installing a provisional governor and cabinet. They disbanded the army of Leah and stationed a garrison of soldiers to maintain order. Though Leah was a small kingdom, the Federation believed that its army, and the independent nature of its people, posed a threat to Federation rule. It was also seen as a stepping-stone to control of the Borderlands.
Controlling Leah was difficult for the Federation. Though the people showed no outward signs of disobedience, small terrorist actions, many of them masterminded by sons of Leah, plagued the occupation force and the provisional governors. At one point the Palace was even burned to the ground. It had been commandeered for use as the governor’s mansion, a use that many within Leah found distasteful, though none would say so publicly. The Governor and his family escaped but never managed to find the arsonist. Sixty years after the Shadowen War, the Federation was driven out of the Borderlands. A few years later it was no surprise to anyone that the most recent provisional governor seemed eager—almost grateful—to finally relinquish Federation control of Leah and escape back to Arishaig.
Rather than reinstate the monarchy, a council of elders was formed, with the head of the Leah family given a seat on the council. There are rumors that the senior Leah was offered a crown and refused it, only reluctantly taking a seat on the council. It is his son, Coran Leah, who now sits as First Minister, leading the people much as his ancestors did, despite the change of title. His sons, Quentin and Bek, have already proven that they too are part of the legacy of the courageous sons of Leah.
The City of Leah
Thick gray stone walls surround the perimeter of Leah, the capital of—and only city in—the Highlands. Gates and gatehouses are set into the wall at the four points of the compass, though the majority of the traffic travels through the main entryway at the West Gate. Though it never had to repel an attacking foe, the city was built to be a fortress haven for the people of the region.
Smaller than Tyrsis or the great cities of the deep South, Leah is a sizable metropolis in comparison to the tiny hamlets and sparse population of the surrounding rural region. It is the only Southland city of any size north of the Prekkendorran. Within the walls, homes, shops, and taverns are nestled among trees, ponds, and flowering gardens. The main thoroughfare, a well-packed dirt road wide enough for two wagons abreast, enters the city proper at the West Gate. The road is lined with small shops and markets until it reaches the inner city, where it opens onto parks and residences.
In the days of the monarchy, the road led to the Palace, a grand two-story mansion set into a grove of hickory trees amid an estate of manicured lawns and fragrant gardens, screened from the street by high shrubs and vine-covered iron gates. The Palace, though quite tiny if compared to the Palace of Tyrsis, was comfortably spacious, built of stone and hardwoods with a sizeable Great Hall, boasting the largest stone fireplace in the Highlands. Its many rooms were large and decorated with tapestries and hunting trophies. The kitchens contained large fireplaces suitable for roasting wild boar or venison, and even the servants’ quarters were warmed by individual fireplaces. Most of the furnishings were made from hand-carved wood or bone and upholstered in leather or furs. The workmanship was unequaled in all the Southland.
After the Palace was burned, the provisional governor was forced to abandon the estate. The land was left empty for forty years, with only the crushed-rock walkways and burned foundation stones to mark where the Palace had once stood. Though officially still Federation property, Leah family retainers tended the gardens. For over 250 years, the Leahs lived outside the city walls on their country estate, where they raised cattle. But fifty years ago, when the Federation finally left the Highlands, Coran Leah’s father reclaimed the land confiscated by the Federation government, and built a new two-story home on the site of the old Palace.
The new manor house is much simpler than the Palace of Leah, with far less housing for servants and armsmen. Yet it is still the largest home in the city. Multiple eaves and dormers set off its long rooflines and deep alcoves, though the hickories that used to add such charm to the original building have never completely recovered from the fire. Each of the major rooms has a stone fireplace for warmth in the winter, though none are as large as the one originally built in the Palace’s Great Hall. In place of the Great Hall, the manor house has a spacious dining hall and several large comfortable drawing rooms, which are often used for council business. The decor is still primarily wood, bone, and leather, though increased trade had added to the variety of materials used by the craftsmen who furnished the house. Unfortunately, many of the original furnishings confiscated by the Federation were lost in the fire or confiscated by the Federation and sent to Arishaig.
Across from the old Palace grounds, on the opposite side of the main street, is the city park. Covering approximately fifteen acres, the park is graced with a small central pond, with many paths and seating areas placed among flowering shrubs, trees, and gardens. Beyond the park, narrow streets of hard-packed dirt spread outwards to the city walls. Most of these streets are lined with all manner of shops, markets, taverns, and a few inns. The number of inns has increased over the last century, as more travelers have come to Leah. In the early years, visitors were rare, and most of the city’s residences were located within the protection of the thick walls. Now the outer city sprawls away from the walls, and homesteads and farms blanket most of the once-open high plain. As one travels away from the city, homes and small residences gradually give way to large estates, sheep, cattle, and horse farms, and eventually large cooperatives maintained by the citizens.
To the north, the hillside rises to meet the highland forest that extends over much of Leah. Woodsmen’s cottages and a few homesteads have been established within these woods, but most of the small hamlets and villages of Leah are situated in open meadows or upper plains hidden within the hills, though a few habitations and cattle farms have been established on the grasslands to the west.
The majority of the land belongs to the Leah family and has been left as wilderness, with an occasional hunting lodge or trapper’s cottage hidden in the trees. The finest of these lodges was built in the days of the monarchy for the use of the royal family and guests. Hidden in a stand of pine at the edge of the Highlands, it was unknown to most outside of Leah, especially the Federation, who cared little for venturing outside the walls of the city unless forced. Built to be a base for hunting and fishing in the mist lakes, the lodge became a favored refuge for the sons of Leah during the years of the Federation occupation.
Built to last, the lodge was constructed of timber and stone, with stone floors and walkways and a large open central room with a high vaulted ceiling framed with pine timbers. The lodge looks much as it did when built, with a well-stocked ale bar to one side and a huge stone fireplace dominating the rest of the room. Most of the original leather and wood furniture remains, though many of the pieces have been repaired or refinished over the years, and the kitchen is still well supplied with staples and equipped for handling game and fish. Hunting trophies have been added to the walls, changing and multiplying as each Leah has adjusted the decor to match his personal tastes.
One of the most luxurious features of the lodge is located outside its walls. Approximately a hundred yards to the rear of the lodge are several small clear blue spring-fed pools, used as bathing pools. The pools provided a refreshing end to the most exhausting hunting expedition. For those who craved
something even more exotic, mud baths were located about a mile away from the main lodge. They were not used as often as the pools but were very popular on hot summer days.
Beyond the Highlands
The land surrounding Leah has always been its first line of defense. To the west, beyond a border of shrub-covered grasslands, lies the Duln, a thick-forested wilderness, and the swift Rappahalladran River. To the north, a mass of cliffs overlooks the great pool of the Rainbow Lake. The south and east are well protected by the dead wasteland known as the Lowlands of Clete, and beyond that, the dense mass of the Black Oaks and the impenetrable Mist Marsh.
In the years of the monarchy, travelers from outside the region rarely visited the Highlands. Travel from the west was possible only by those who knew the trails or who had excellent Tracking skills. There were no established trails. The local villagers who regularly traveled to Leah used their knowledge of the area to follow existing deer trails through the forest of the Duln wilderness.
The southern and eastern approaches to Leah were guarded by the Lowlands of Clete, a dismal, treacherous bog that, on the east, connected the Highlands to the Black Oaks, an ancient forest of giant oaks that stretched for over a hundred miles south from the marsh at the edge of the Rainbow Lake.
The nearly impenetrable wood was over twenty miles wide in most areas. Considered the most dangerous forest in the Southland, it stood like a wall between Leah and the Lower Anar. The great oaks were so numerous and their branches so thick that it was impossible to see the sky from the ground. The citizens of Leah, who were born in the forests of the highlands and grew up traversing the Duln, avoided the Black Oaks whenever possible. They believed the forest was alive with ancient magic trapped there since the Great Wars or before. But the greatest danger was the unnaturally huge wolves that ruled its dark domain, preying on the unwary. Over the years, more than a hundred people fell victim to the wood. Most died as a result of mishap, starvation, or the wolves, but some died from unknown causes.