Naikamil lead the way through the tunnels of the Crack. The Under-guard, powerless to the cold-drake's superior strength and power, followed her like frightened children. The Underlord had left for the city of het-Githlun. Naikamil was annoyed and frustrated by this, and had been muttering angrily under her breath for almost two hours, even as she strode through chambers that were infested with creatures of all sizes and shapes, gnawing into the cavern walls.
"That selfish…thing!" Naikamil rambled in the darkness. "How could he leave me here, in this gauntlet of insanity? One does not irritate a Dragon! Not even you, so-called Underlord! I most certainly better not be the breeding stock of these stupid creatures! I am above all of these creatures! I am Naikamil, Drake of the Cold, The Black Worm, Mother of Pain! I demand respect!"
"Of course, my Lady!" whimpered one of the guards that followed her. "Have mercy, O worm-maiden of the North!"
Naikamil heeded not his pleas, and continued though the tunnels. Eventually, she came to a vast flooded chamber, where she saw an opening high up in the stone ceiling. Water was pouring into the chamber, and into deep pits in the dark. Naikamil smiled, and stretched the length of her massive black body. She sighed deeply.
"Freedom." The cold-drake whispered in awe. "I will not remain within this scum-infested tunnel, not for any request. I declare myself free, Farewell, you fools."
But when she extended her foremost claw against the wall, and peered into the sky above, the Under-guard ran up to her, and seized her hindmost feet. They were not attempting to stop her from leaving, but pleading to join her.
"My Lady, please do not leave us here!" begged the lieutenant. "Command us, as we are your soldiers! We put your leadership over the Underlord's! I plead that you accept our services!"
Naikamil paused for a moment. The concept of servants to call her own astonished her. Even as she thought about it, the guards began to grovel at her feet, even going so far as to climb up and kiss her scaly heels. Naikamil kicked them back, and brushed her heels with her tail. Then she turned her head, and faced the Under-guard.
"Very well. If you pathetic little boys can leave this place, you may grovel all you wish."
Then Naikamil extended her claws upwards, and climbed out of the opening. She lay flat on her belly as she looked at the land around her.
The Sky was now a bluish-white, and the land around her was rich with vegetation. To the Southwest, a River flowed through a forest of strange trees. To the North and distant West, mountain ranges were visible. The Northern mountains were greenish in color, while the Western mountains were utterly black. Jungles rose up in the East.
Naikamil saw the River, and realized how thirsty she was. She felt her throat dry up, and began to pant loudly. The cold-drake came to a small lake outside the strange forest, and began to drink from it.
As she began to drink, she felt something sharp and pointed poking her lips from under the water. Naikamil raised her head, and noticed that the bottom of the lake was stiff with spiked rocks jutting out from the riverbanks.
"No matter." Naikamil said to herself.
She raised her head, and let it drop down into the water. The underside of her massive jaw crushed the rocks completely. She then continued drinking the water. When Naikamil drank her fill, she lay herself on her side, and closed her eyes, as if to rest.
Meanwhile, along the River, known as Grindwater, a group of Darklanders had been patrolling the river-banks, hunting for food. The Men were armed with black-bladed swords, and went clad in leather-padded mail. They were nearing the lake, where Naikamil was resting.
The Darklanders were all in their late teens, though three were in their twenties. There were nineteen of them, and they were all eager for a creature to slay and devour. The lieutenant of the group pointed from beyond the forest, and shouted in Naikamil's general direction.
"Ut el Hata?" The lieutenant questioned, falling into the Renorin tongue. "What is that?"
"It looks like…some sort of lizard!" said one of the oldest Darklanders, staring in awe at the sleeping cold-drake.
"It is a Dragon." Said a Darklander with a skeletal face. "I remember overhearing a conversation about it in Grindsmouth. They're supposed to be ferocious monsters from a far away land…up North, I believe. They're said to be creatures of the Dark Lord himself."
"Who told you that?" asked the captain, a Man of nineteen.
"Jykale told me that!" said the skeletal Darklander.
"The son of Reinx? That crazy fool from the Islands? If that so-called philosopher cannot spend less time fantasizing about the lands across the Sea, and more time following the Underlord's code, we won't make it to het-Githlun till we're the Underlord's age!"
"What should we do, though? Should we do something about that giant lizard?" asked the twenty-year-old Darklander.
"It's a Dragon! By the Unlight, it's a Dragon!" said the skeletal Darklander, annoyed.
"I don't care if it's one of the Delvers of the Deep, Galkyn! This cannot go un-attended! We should investigate it, immediately."
"Very well, captain." Said Galkyn.
The nineteen Darklanders approached Naikamil in stealth. The loud blowing wind covered their footsteps as they crept through the twisted grass. Six drew their weapons out, and moved around Naikamil in a flanking position. Another three approached the sleeping Dragon with their dart-bows drawn out. Galkyn followed them, and urged the others not to interfere. The lieutenant took command of the remaining Darklanders, and forced them to resume their patrol.
The ten Darklanders that remained closed in on Naikamil. Galkyn and the captain both stood at bay, while the twenty-year-old and a dart-bow archer of sixteen years walked up to Naikamil's wide blue-gray belly. The other two dart-bow archers circled her massive black body, which measured to seventy feet in length.
"It's a female!" shouted the twenty-year-old, upon a particularly thorough inspection of the cold-drake's anatomy. "This lizard's a-FFFAAEEERRRK!"
Then at that point, Naikamil dropped the act, and rolled over, burying the twenty-year-old Darklander's legs under her belly. She was simply annoyed by the presence of these Men. What annoyed her more was how young these intruders were.
"Run along, little boys." She said to them, feigning a motherly tone in her voice, which thinly disguised a malice that was slowly erupting from within her fell spirit. "Mommy wants to rest. Go play…or go to sleep."
With that, she rolled back over, grabbed the crippled Darklander with her claw, and flung him eight feet away from her. Then she turned to the captain, and said to him:
"If you have something to say to me, then by all means, speak quickly!"
Galkyn approached the wrathful cold-drake, speaking to soothe her.
"Please, my dear Dragon. Don't be upset!"
"Upset?" repeated Naikamil. She then laughed deeply, ending it with a strained sigh. "I am simply distressed. I simply cannot find a moment of peace here in your lands. All the places I have attempted to rest have brought me one interruption after the other."
"If you seek a place to rest, Dragon, I know of a place in the Black Mountains, where the hot springs soothe all stress and calms even the most fiery of tempers. I, myself, cannot take the time to take you there, but I have a friend who can take on this task."
"Very well, boy." said Naikamil, haughtily. "You will bring this fool to me, and you will do so at the utmost haste!"
"Of course!" said the captain. "But dear Dragon, what is the name of the magnificent creature that commands me now, even as I stand humbly before it? Forgive me, but I must know!"
"I am Naikamil!" said the cold-drake, with a low, menacing tone in her voice. "I am thy Mother of Pain! Tempt not my scorn and your pitiful existence shall be spared!"
"As you wish!" bowed the captain. Galkyn led the other Darklanders in a forced salute.
Naikamil raised her head, and curved her lips into a wicked smile, and arced her spine, and whipped her tail into the ground. Galkyn shot one last look at Naikamil to see her raise her tail and flex it in a threatening manner, before hurrying quicker than ever.
The twenty-year-old lay abandoned by his comrades, broken and humiliated, by the water's edge. Naikamil sprawled towards him, and bent her head down to look upon him with a smile that stretched across her vast, reptilian face.