The Council of Guardians

“Pleasedonteatuspleasedonteatuspleasedonteatus,” said Mini rapidly.

“Eat you?” repeated the creature, shocked. Its eyes widened. They reminded Aru of an insect’s eyes—strangely prismed, like a cluster of television screens. “You don’t look very edible. Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.”

Aru was not in the least bit offended but thought it wise not to point this out.

Boo flew down from her shoulder. “Makara! Guardian of the thresholds between worlds!”

Aru gawked. A real makara. She’d seen photos of them, but only as crocodile-like statues that guarded temples and doors. It was said that the goddess of the Ganges River rode one through the water. Aru wasn’t sure whether that made them mythical boats or guard dogs. Judging from the way the makara was excitedly wagging its tail, she was going with the latter.

“Make way for this generation’s Pandava brothers—” started Boo.

The makara frowned. “They look more like sisters—”

“That’s what I meant!” snapped Boo.

“Wait…I recognize you,” said the makara slowly, tilting its head as it considered Boo. “You don’t look the same.”

“Yes. Well, that happens when one has been…” Boo’s words ended in incoherent muttering. “The heroes are here to meet the Council and receive the details of their quest.”

“Ah! Another chance for the world to end! How delightful. I hope I get more visitors. I never get many visitors. Ooh! I don’t think I’ve opened up an entrance to a Claiming in…well, quite a while. I don’t know how many years it’s been. I was never very good with numbers,” said the makara sheepishly. “Every time I try to count, I get distracted. Even when I’m talking, sometimes it’s like…it’s like…” The makara blinked. “I’m rather hungry. Can I go now?”

“Makara,” growled Boo. The makara cringed and hunkered closer to the floor. “Open the door to the Court of the Sky.”

“Oh! Of course. Yes, I can do that!” said the makara. “First, I just have to see that they are who you say they are. Who are they again? Or what? You know, I’ve never actually seen a vole, and I read about them the other day in a book about animals. Are they voles?”

“Humans,” volunteered Aru.

“Rather tiny for humans. You’re certain you’re not a vole?”

“We’re not done growing yet,” said Mini. “But my pediatrician said I probably won’t get any taller than five foot two.”

“Five feet, you say?” asked the makara. He rolled onto his back and raised his stubby legs. “I really think four feet are much more useful. Five might throw you off-balance. But that’s just my opinion.”

The makara lifted his head, as if he could see beyond them. Something flashed in his prism eyes. Aru saw an image of herself opening the museum entrance to Poppy, Arielle, and Burton. She saw the lighter flame being lowered to the lip of the lamp.

Something else shimmered in the depths of the makara’s gaze….Aru watched Mini discovering her parents frozen on the couch. A movie was playing on the television screen. An older boy who might have been Mini’s brother was in the middle of tossing a basketball into the air.

At first Mini curled into a ball on the living room floor and cried and cried. After a few minutes she went upstairs and took out a backpack. She stared at herself in the mirror, reached for her mother’s eyeliner, and made violent swipes on her cheeks. Then Mini kissed her stiff parents, hugged her immobile brother, and went outside, prepared to face down whatever evil she was destined to defeat.

Mini, for all her worries about allergies and magical bees, was brave.

Aru’s face heated. Compared to Mini, she wasn’t brave at all.

“Well, they are who you say they are!” said the makara. “I hope the Council trusts me.”

“Me too,” Boo harrumphed. “I never lie.”

Aru could not say the same for herself.

Mini was staring at Aru. “You lit the lamp?”

Here comes the blame.

“I know it had to happen,” said Mini hurriedly, as if she’d offended Aru. “My mom told me that the Sleeper was always destined to try to fight us. Don’t worry, I’m not mad. There was no way you could’ve known what that lamp would do.”

That was true, but still…Aru had known that she wasn’t supposed to light it. The problem was, her mom had never told her why. So Aru had thought it was just one of those generic warnings parents gave to kids, like Don’t go outside without sunscreen or you’ll burn! Or, as the woman who ran the local Hindu temple’s summer day camp liked to remind Aru: Don’t go outside without sunscreen or you’ll get darker and won’t find a husband! Until it happened, who cared? Aru had never gotten sunburned, and she really didn’t need to find a husband at age twelve.

But there wasn’t any protective lotion when it came to demons. It all boiled down to one thing: she wasn’t supposed to light the lamp, and yet she had. The fact that it had been “destined” to happen didn’t really absolve her of blame. Aru’s guilt was beginning to roil in her stomach. To the point where she thought she might throw up.

A bright moth hovered in front of Aru and Mini and Boo. Its wings grew, and light curled through the air, like calligraphy made of starlight. The wings stretched and unfurled until the girls and bird were completely enfolded.

“Good-bye, inedible tiny humans and Subala!” called the makara, no longer visible to them. “May all the doors you face in life swing open and never smack you in the butt as they close!”

The moth faded away, and they found themselves in an open-air room. No wonder it was called the Court of the Sky. Above them, the sky was marbled with clouds. The walls were ribbons of shimmering light. Delicate music laced the air. The space had that deliciously ripe aroma of the earth right after a summer thunderstorm. Aru wished the world smelled like this all the time. Like honey and mint and bright green growing things.

Beside her, Mini groaned, clutching her stomach. “Did I ever tell you I have acrophobia?”

“You’re scared of spiders?”

“No! That’s arachnophobia. I’m scared of heights!”

“Heights?”

Aru looked down. And then she wished she hadn’t. There was a reason it seemed like they were hovering above the earth: they were.

Beneath her feet were two cloudy wisps. And beneath those…a very long fall through a lot of empty sky.

“Don’t take off those cloud slippers,” said Boo, flapping beside them. “That’d be quite unfortunate.”

Mini whimpered. “This is where the Council meets?”

“They gather on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and during full moons and new moons, and also for the season premiere and finale of Game of Thrones.”

Speaking of thrones…Seven huge royal-looking chairs floated around them. All the thrones were made of gold. Except one, outside the circle, that was tarnished and rusty. She could only make out the letters U-A-L-A printed beneath it.

The other names were easier to read. As she sounded them out, Aru gasped. She recognized them from the stories she’d heard and the artifacts her mom had acquired for the museum.

There was Urvashi the apsara, the celestial singer and dancer who was said to be unmatched in beauty. Then there was monkey-faced Hanuman, the trickster who had famously helped the god Rama in his fight against the demon king. There were other names, too. Names like Uloopi and Surasa, the serpent queens; the bear king, Jambavan; and Kubera, the Lord of Wealth. These Guardians were immortal and worthy of worship, but they were often considered separate from the main league of gods and goddesses.

When Boo had mentioned a council, Aru had imagined stern summer camp counselors…not the very people from the myths and tales that had been crammed into her head since she was a toddler. Urvashi was, like, a heavenly nymph queen, and Hanuman, who was the son of the god of the wind, was a powerful demigod.

Now Aru really wished she were not wearing Spider-Man pajamas. It was like some horrible nightmare where she was walking the red carpet of a fancy movie premiere in an aluminum-foil hat and rubber-duckie rain boots, and why was this happening to her?

Aru turned to Mini. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad do I look? Ten being burn your clothes.”

“But then you wouldn’t be wearing anything!” said Mini, horrified.

“So what you’re saying is that I look horrible, but the alternative would be much worse?”

Mini’s silence was a very clear YUP.

“Better pajamas than skin,” said Boo. “Unless it’s the skin of a demon you slayed. That would be fitting for a hero.”

Wearing heavy, stinking demon skin?

“I’ll stick with polyester,” said Aru.

“Polly Esther? That poor child!” squawked Boo. For a pigeon, he looked thoroughly disturbed. “Middle school children are uncommonly cruel.”

Perhaps sensing that the conversation was moving from stupid to stupefying, Mini piped up. “Why are some of the thrones only half there?”

Aru peered closer at the circle of thrones. Some of them were partly transparent.

“Not every guardian of the Council is in residence at the same time,” Boo said. “What would be the point of that when the world isn’t in need of saving? No one believed the lamp would be lit for another ten or twenty years. They thought there was more time to prepare for the Sleeper. Until…someone.” He glared at Aru.

Aru blinked innocently. Who, me?

Beside her, Mini risked a look beneath her feet and started swaying. “I’m going to be sick,” she moaned.

“Oh, no you don’t!” said Boo. He hovered in front of her face and pecked her nose. “You two are not going to embarrass me in front of the Guardians. Spines straight! Wings preened! Beaks pointed!”

“What’s going to happen?” asked Aru.

She didn’t normally feel anxious about meeting people. But Urvashi and Hanuman weren’t just any people. They weren’t legends, either. They were real.

“It is the duty of the Council to deliver a quest. The Sleeper is out there right now, searching for a way to get the celestial weapons and use them to wake up the Lord of Destruction. You must get the weapons first.”

“By ourselves?” asked Mini.

“You’ll have me,” said Boo primly.

“Great. Because nothing says Come at me, demon like a pigeon sidekick,” said Aru.

“Rude!” huffed Boo.

“It’s not so bad!” said Mini with false cheer. “Isn’t the Council meant to help us?”

At this, Aru heard a laugh that sounded like someone tickling a chandelier.

“And why should I want to help you?” asked a silvery voice.

Before, the space had smelled like a summer thunderstorm; now it smelled as if every flower in existence had been distilled into a perfume. It wasn’t pleasant. It was overwhelming.

Aru turned to see the most beautiful woman in the world sitting in the throne labeled URVASHI. She wore black leggings and a salwar kameez top that would have appeared as simple as white spun cotton if it didn’t glimmer like woven moonlight. Around her ankles was a set of bright gunghroo bells. She was tall and dark-skinned and wore her hair in a messy side braid. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of dance rehearsal. Which, given the fact that she was the chief dancer of the heavens, was probably true.

“This is what you brought back to save us? I might as well set myself on fire and save the Lord of Destruction the trouble.”

It took a moment for Aru to realize that Urvashi wasn’t talking to her or Mini. She was talking to Boo.

To the left of the celestial dancer, a deep voice let out a powerful laugh.

“You really hold on to a grudge, don’t you? Hasn’t it been a millennium since he ruined your outfit?”

The monkey demigod Hanuman materialized in his throne. He was wearing a silk blazer and a shirt patterned with forest leaves. His tail flopped over the back of the chair, and from one of his ears dangled a jewel that looked like a small crown.

“It wasn’t just any outfit, you big ape,” snapped Urvashi. “It was made from the skipped heartbeats of every person who had ever laid eyes on me. It took centuries to sew! Subala knew that!”

“He’s a bird—what did you expect?” said Hanuman.

“Not a bird!” shouted Boo. “And you know that!”

Aru was so distracted by their arguing that it took a while before she felt Mini tugging on her sleeve. She pointed at the tarnished throne bearing the letters U-A-L-A.

Now Aru could see where the other letters might have fit: S and B. Subala. Boo was one of the Guardians! But he didn’t seem like the others. He wasn’t glowing and powerful. And his throne had been pushed out of the circle. What had happened?

“You know why I’m here,” Boo said to the Guardians. “These are the chosen heroes of the age.”

Urvashi wrinkled her nose. “We’ve gone from training and assisting the saviors of humankind to playing nursemaid? No thank you.”

Aru blushed. “We’re not kids.”

“Um, Aru…” said Mini, “we kinda are.”

“We’re preadolescents.”

“That’s the same thing, just a different word.”

“Yeah, but it sounds better,” muttered Aru.

“Whatever you may be, there is only one thing you are to me,” said Urvashi. “You. Are. Not. Worth. My. Time.” She flicked the armrest of her throne and then fixed her dark gaze on Boo. “Honestly, how did you bring two mortal children up here, anyway?”

“The usual routes,” huffed Boo. “And they’re not mortal children. They have the souls of Pandavas. I know it to be true.”

“If they really are Pandavas, then the irony that you are the one who has been chosen to help them delights me.” Urvashi’s laugh sounded like gunghroo bells. “But I don’t believe you. The Pandava souls have lain dormant since the end of the Mahabharata War. Why would they appear now?”

Aru’s skin prickled with fury. “Because the Sleeper is awake,” she cut in. “And we need help if we’re going to save our families.”

Beside her, Mini gave a grim nod.

“So you need to give us a weapon and tell us what to do,” said Aru.

Hanuman regarded them solemnly. “The Sleeper?” His tail stood straight behind him. “It is as we feared, then, Urvashi. Everything we saw…It is him.”

Under Aru’s feet, the sky disappeared. Static rippled in the air, and it was like she and Mini were now standing on a giant television screen. Hanuman swept his hand over the screen, and images twisted beneath them.

The first vision was of the street outside the Museum of Ancient Indian Art and Culture. A leaf caught up in the wind hadn’t fallen. The only things that moved were the clouds. It was silent, but the silence wasn’t pleasant. It was like a graveyard—lonely, eerie, and undisturbed.

The second vision was on the suburban street where they had first found Mini. Two boys had been frozen while arguing over a comic book. A girl playing basketball had jumped for the hoop and stayed caught in the air, fingers still gripping the ball.

Beside Aru, Mini let out a cry.

“My neighbors! Are they okay? Did you know that if you don’t have water for twelve hours, you could die? What—”

“The frozen do not suffer now,” said Hanuman. “But they will if the Sleeper is not stopped by the new moon.”

Aru’s throat tightened. All those people…people she had never met. They would be hurt because of this, because of her.

“The Sleeper is right on our heels,” said Boo somberly. “Looking where we last were.”

“Looking is too quiet a word for what he’s doing. He’s hunting,” said Urvashi.

Shivers ran down Aru’s spine. But something didn’t make sense. If the Sleeper was looking for them, then why hadn’t he just stayed in the museum when Aru had lit the lamp?

He was definitely looking for them (she refused to think hunting—she was a girl, not a rabbit), but he was planning, too. At least, that’s what she’d do if she were a demon. If your enemies were out to get you, you had to keep them guessing. It was like playing chess. You had to make the least predictable move. And to get to your goal—the king—you had to remove the defenses first.

“Has anything else happened?” Aru asked.

Urvashi’s lip curled in disgust. “Anything other than the world gradually freezing, you mean?” she mocked.

But Hanuman understood. His tail snapped upright. “The vehicles…” he said slowly. “The vehicles of the gods and goddesses have gone missing.”

Aru knew from her mother’s stories that when Hanuman said vehicles, he wasn’t talking about cars or bicycles. He was referring to the special mounts that the deities used. Ganesh, the elephant-headed god of new beginnings, rode a mouse. (Must be a really muscular mouse, Aru always thought.) The goddess of luck, Lakshmi, rode an owl. Indra, the king of the gods, rode a majestic seven-headed horse.

“The Sleeper intends to slow down the heavens, too,” said Urvashi, her eyes widening. “He means to chop our legs from beneath us….But if he has truly awakened, then why are the agents of the heavens…them?” She flailed a hand at Aru and Mini.

Mini tightened her hold on her backpack. But she wasn’t glaring like Aru. Her eyes were shining, as if she were about to cry.

“Because…because we’re Pandavas,” Aru said, forcing her voice not to shake. “And it’s your job or—”

“Dharma,” whispered Boo. “It’s their sacred duty to help the Pandavas fight the Sleeper one last time.”

Fight? One last time? This was all news to Aru. Even the Guardians’ faces turned stiff at his words.

“Right. That,” said Aru. “So, you have to help us.”

“Oh, really?” said Urvashi. Her voice turned devastatingly calm. “If you’re Pandavas, then prove it.”

Hanuman stood up on his throne. “We have never forced anyone to undergo the Claiming before they were ready. The Pandavas were always trained, at least!” He stared down at Aru and Mini. “They’re only children.”

“According to the rules,” said Urvashi, smiling cruelly, “it must be unanimously agreed by the Guardians in residence that we believe they are semidivine. I do not believe. And if they’re only children, they shouldn’t bother.”

Aru was about to speak, but someone else got there first.

“We’ll prove it,” said Mini.

Her hands were clenched into fists beside her. Aru felt a strange burst of pride in the surprisingly brave Mini. But Boo did not seem enthusiastic. He fluttered to his former throne, his face as pinched and solemn as a pigeon could look.

“Let the Claiming commence!” called Urvashi.

The Court of the Sky zoomed back into the shadows. And where the circle of thrones had once surrounded them, now something else did: five gigantic statues. If they weren’t already in the sky, Aru might have guessed that the statues’ heads would have scraped the clouds.

Aru’s heart pounded, her previous burst of confidence gone. “You keep saying ‘claiming,’ but what are we claiming, exactly?”

“Like insurance? Deductions?” pressed Mini. She shrugged off Aru’s bewildered expression. “What? My mom’s a tax attorney.”

“You are not claiming anything,” said Boo. “It is the gods that will do the claiming. Each of the Pandava brothers had a different divine father. You are about to find out who yours is.”

From her mom’s stories, Aru knew that there were five main brothers. The first three—Yudhistira, Arjuna, and Bhima—were the sons of the god of death, the god of the heavens, and the god of the wind, respectively. The twin Pandavas—Nakula and Sahadeva—were born by the blessing of the Ashvins, the twin gods of medicine and sunset. And there was one more: Karna, the secret Pandava, the son of the sun god.

Aru wasn’t sure why they were all called brothers when they didn’t even have the same mom, but maybe it went back to what Boo had talked about—that they didn’t have to be blood-related to be siblings. There was a shared divinity-ness in their souls that was just as good as blood.

Or something like that.

“Wait. So, like, they’re just going to reach out from the heavens, weigh us, and say Yup, that seems like mine?” demanded Aru.

“What about documentation?” shrieked Mini, her voice hitching with panic. “Is this like a conversation, or are there needles involved, like in a paternity test?”

If Boo knew the answers, he had zero interest in sharing. Ignoring their questions, he walked toward one of the giant statues.

“Pranama as I say the gods’ names,” he said.

Pranama was when you touched the feet of your elders. Aru had to do that when she went to the temple and ran into the priest or someone much, much older and well respected.

“I always have to do that when my mom’s parents visit,” whispered Mini. “My grandfather has really hairy feet….”

“What about your dad’s parents?” asked Aru.

“They’re Filipino. My lola only likes her feet touched if I’m giving her a foot rub.”

“Shh!” said Boo.

“How will we know if one of the gods is claiming us?” Aru asked.

“Simple. They’ll choose to keep you alive.”

“WHAT?” cried Mini and Aru at the same time.

The walls of ribbon-lights started flickering.

“Don’t worry,” said Boo airily. “I’ve only been wrong about someone being a Pandava once.”

“So that means that person—”

“Watch out!” screamed Mini, pushing Aru.

The ribbon-lights slowly changed into a bunch of tiny bright spots, like stars. But then they came closer, and Aru saw that they weren’t stars at all.

They were arrow tips.

And they were heading straight for them.