The Gate Traveler

In the morning, Mahya and I first sat at the computer to find a place where we could take off in the balloon. Quickly, we discovered we were optimists.

The first problem we faced was finding a place to take off. We couldn’t launch from SF because of the crowded city and strict flying rules. We considered Napa Valley and Sonoma Valley as alternatives, both about 60 to 90 minutes from San Francisco, depending on traffic.

Second, a hot-air balloon flew much slower than we thought. The distance from San Francisco to Las Vegas is approximately 420 miles. In a hot-air balloon, travel times are highly variable and dependent on weather conditions, wind speeds, and directions. Typically, hot-air balloons travel at speeds ranging from 5 to 15 miles per hour. Given these speeds:

• Best-case scenario (15 mph): It would take around 28 hours of continuous flight.
• Average scenario (10 mph): It would take around 42 hours of continuous flight.
• Worst-case scenario (5 mph): It would take around 84 hours of continuous flight.

We looked for a route with optimized landing zones, convenient transportation options, and nearby hotels so we could cut the journey into sections. After a long deliberation, our route looked like this:

  San Francisco to Merced

• Distance: 130 miles
• Direction: Southeast (SE)
• Bearing: 135 degrees
• Estimated Flight Time: 8-12 hours

  Merced to Visalia

• Distance: 90 miles
• Direction: South-southeast (SSE)
• Bearing: 150 degrees
• Estimated Flight Time: 6-9 hours

  Visalia to Bakersfield

• Distance: 90 miles
• Direction: South-southeast (SSE)
• Bearing: 150 degrees
• Estimated Flight Time: 6-9 hours

  Bakersfield to Barstow

• Distance: 130 miles
• Direction: East-southeast (ESE)
• Bearing: 110 degrees
• Estimated Flight Time: 8-12 hours

  Barstow to Las Vegas

• Distance: 155 miles
• Direction: East-northeast (ENE)
• Bearing: 70 degrees
• Estimated Flight Time: 10-15 hours
• Landing site: Jean, Nevada, 25 miles from LV

We studied Google Earth and aerial maps to recognize the places we were supposed to land in.

The third problem was that we could cast invisibility on ourselves but not the balloon, so there were governmental agencies we had to contact.

Federal Aviation Administration (FAA)

• Contact: We had to inform the FAA and get approval. The FAA considers a hot-air balloon an aircraft and requires their compliance with regulations.
• Requirements:
  • Flight Plan: We had to file a flight plan detailing our route, stops, and estimated departure and arrival times.
  • Pilot Certification: That was not a problem. Both of us conjured the needed local certificates.
  • Airworthiness: The hot-air balloon had to have a valid airworthiness certificate. Again, not a problem with conjuring.

Local Authorities

• City and County Permits: We had to contact the local authorities in San Francisco, Merced, Visalia, Bakersfield, Barstow, and Las Vegas for any specific permits or notifications required for launching and landing within city or county limits.

Air Traffic Control (ATC)

• Flight Coordination: We had to coordinate with ATC for specific airspace regulations, especially when flying near busy airports or controlled airspace.

Insurance

• Liability Coverage: We needed adequate insurance coverage for the trip, covering potential liabilities and damages.
• Balloon Insurance: Specific insurance for the hot-air balloon and its passengers. Those two we also conjured.

By this point, I was ready to give up on the idea and just rent a car, but Mahya was insistent. She was determined to make the trip in the balloon, and no matter what I said about dealing with governmental agencies, she wouldn’t budge. I knew what we would have to deal with and was ready to make my way to Vegas alone, but I gave up quickly on the idea—you didn’t abandon your friends, even if they were stubborn, illogical mules, that dug their heels in and wouldn’t budge in the face of pure logic.

The legal shit took us two days to arrange with a lot of phone calls and going all over SF to various offices. By the time we had all the documentation ready, I was a nervous wreck, and Mahya was even worse. At some point, she remarked she would choose the elves over Earth’s governmental authorities every single time, and she wasn’t joking. I wanted to remind her it was her choice, but stopped myself—I hated “I told you so’s”—no need to do it to others.

Al didn’t help the situation. He was upset we called him back too early and kept complaining until I snapped at him, “If you think fucking is more important than your friends, you can fuck right off and not come back.”

His eyes widened, mouth hanging open like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. Then his brows pulled together, jaw and fists clenched. After a beat, his shoulders dropped, and his gaze softened, like the world’s weight hit him. Suddenly, something clicked. His expression cleared, and he stepped forward, hand outstretched. “I apologise. How can I be of assistance?” he asked, sounding sincere.

There was hope for him yet.

“Just help with Rue. I can’t keep telling him to lower the TV so I can hear the phone conversations.”

He nodded, and a minute later, the TV volume went down a notch.

Finally, FINALLY! Everything was arranged, and we were ready to take off at dawn the following morning. I picked up the truck from the rental agency and gave them the exact location in the Sonoma Valley where to pick it up. And there was a message from Sonak that after a one-day rest in Chicago, he boarded the train to LA. We were ready.

After all the hassle, I wanted to clear my mind, so I suggested dinner at Gary Danko restaurant. At dinner, Mahya apologized for her insistence and admitted that it was illogical. Al apologized again for his behavior, and I apologized for snapping at both of them. We were good again, and I relaxed and let it go. I hated feeling angry or annoyed.

Navigating the balloon down the stairs was impossible, no matter what we tried. So, Al went to the concierge to keep him busy so he wouldn’t notice anything. Mahya stored the balloon, and at the lobby, I discreetly sent a mana dart at the lobby camera and fried it. Mahya took out the balloon, and we pretended like we brought it down the stairs. Roger, the concierge, looked very impressed we managed it. I handed him an extra $100 to ease my guilt about the camera, shook his hand, and thanked him for everything. At last, we departed for the take-off location.

As we went up, the wind playfully messed up my hair, making it look like a crazy, swirling mess. Mahya and Al, their hair mysteriously unaffected by the wind, exchanged a bemused glance. Mahya couldn’t resist teasing. “What’s the story with your hair? Did you stick your finger in a light socket?”

Grinning, I replied without missing a beat, “It’s just the wind saying hello.” As if on cue, my hair flopped over my eyes like a wayward mop, eliciting more puzzled looks from them.

They looked at me like I was a lunatic, Maya’s mouth twitching in an attempt to suppress a smile. She tilted her head, like she was trying to figure something out. “Remember you told me to hit you over the head if you start to behave like a crazy person?”

“Yes, if I start talking to grass, not if the wind says hello. Those are two separate things. Talking to grass is a whole different level. The wind is just playful,” I explained earnestly, attempting to smooth down my unruly hair, which only seemed to defy my efforts further.

“I am unable to discern any distinction,” Al said, sounding confused.

“There’s a subtle nuance,” I assured them with mock seriousness.

Mahya snorted, unable to contain her laughter as she playfully nudged my shoulder. “So, wind conversations are acceptable, but grass whispering is off-limits?” she quipped, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Exactly,” I affirmed with exaggerated nodding. “Wind is whimsy, grass is... well, just unsettling.”

Al shook his head. “You possess a unique and distinctive form of peculiarity, are you aware of that fact?”

“Why, thank you,” I replied, giving a mock bow, my hair flopping forward dramatically.

They didn’t look convinced, but at least now they were laughing.

“I thought you know a wizard?” I asked Al.

“Yes. However, his expertise lies in constructing buildings rather than communicating with the elements.”

“Well, each wizard has their specialty. I’m learning that this one is mine.”

He harrumphed but said nothing.

To prevent myself from hovering and crashing, I divided my mind and connected with the wind. I didn’t achieve Unity, but I forged a connection. To increase the chances of her accepting, I presented it as a game, since I knew she would probably refuse if I asked directly. I didn’t talk to her; she didn’t communicate in words but sensations, feelings, and emotions.

The time before Rue learned to talk was a great learning experience in this way of communication. I sent her the feeling of a game, of playing, of having fun and laughing, and the sensation of the balloon flying in a specific direction. To make sure, I sent a feeling of boredom and disinterest in the other directions. And again, a sense of fun and exploration in the southeastern direction.

She liked the game, and the balloon took off in the correct direction much faster than the promised 15 mph.

I had read that, technically, since the balloon is part of the air, nothing should affect it. After all, the balloon moves with the wind, not through it. But here’s the thing: I wasn’t sure if that same rule applied when enhancing the speed. From what I understood, a balloon has no means of propulsion. It just drifts, completely passive, with its speed relative to the air always at zero. But would adding more speed mess with that balance? I didn’t know. So, to be safe, I split my mind a third time, focusing on ensuring the balloon could handle the added speed, and channeled low mana Restore into it.

The third split was still difficult for me, but easier than in the past. I didn’t know how long we flew like this, as I entirely focused on the wind and the Restore spell, with the third part of my mind serving as a safeguard to keep me from losing myself completely.

I heard Mahya say, “Well, we won’t be landing in Merced. We just passed it.”

I was so surprised I almost lost focus on the connection, but the wind nudged me to keep playing, just enough to stay on task. It didn’t feel like we’d been flying for 12 hours, not even 8.

Mahya touched my shoulder and said, “Tell your friend to change direction to the south-southeast, or we might end up in Fresno instead of Visalia.”

I sent the wind a sense of wanting something new, nudging it toward a more exciting direction. The wind eagerly responded, playful as ever, and I felt it shift south-southeast. She ruffled my hair again playfully, and I laughed out loud. She enjoyed that and wanted to play more. Our speed picked up even more.

After a while, Mahya touched my shoulder again. “Tell her to slow down. We’re losing altitude, and I need to use the gas, but at this speed…” She glanced at the balloon. “I’m not sure if that will mess with the flame or not.”

“Why should it?” I asked, my teeth clenched as I struggled to keep everything balanced.

“Well,” she started, looking a little unsure, “if your friend suddenly changes direction or speed, it might affect the flame. I mean, I don’t really know. It’s only my second time, and the first was hovering. My skill says it’s fine, but it’s only level one, so… I can’t say for sure.” She shrugged, uncertainty written all over her face.

I sent the wind a sense of slowing down, but she didn’t want to slow down. It wasn’t effortless, but I managed to explain the need to slow down using emotions and sensations, explaining the reason behind it. She still didn’t want to slow down. She was having too much fun. So, instead, she engulfed the whole balloon, lifted it, and increased the speed even more. I upped the mana output of the Restore spell. We were zooming at this point, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

I heard Mahya say, “We passed Visalia.”

“Direction?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“We’re good. I’ll tell you when to change.”

I couldn’t gauge the passage of time while being lost in the wind, but after a while that felt longer, Mahya touched me again and said, “Change to east-southeast.”

Repeating the same communication sequence as before, the wind changed our direction.

“Altitude?” I managed to ask.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it, but we’re good. Great, actually.”

After another unknown time, I noticed I no longer had any problem holding the three splits. Finally, I looked at my surroundings and saw it getting late, judging by the low sun.

“How long have we been flying?” I asked.

“Thirteen hours? Maybe? Something like this. With your channeling, I don’t want to take out my phone.”

I checked on Rue, and he was doing great. His paws were on the basket’s lip, and he held his face high into the wind. This dog was a speed demon.

My mana was still good when I checked: 7,800/10,200.

Probably the wind was helping me regenerate. I was sure I used much more mana for the Restore. Seeing as I was in complete control of my faculties again and could think and function with the three-way split, I split my mind the fourth time and almost blacked out from the mental strain. But this time, I was an old hand at this and knew it would be fine.

I lifted my hand and channeled Heat into the balloon.

“Restore is more important right now,” Mahya said. “We are going really fast, and I don’t want the balloon to tear.”

“I’m channeling both.”

“He is terrifying sometimes,” I heard Al say.

“You’ll get used to it,” Mahya answered him with a laugh.

I couldn’t focus on them anymore. The fourth split was giving me a killing headache. After an undetermined time, I dropped the Heat spell and let my mind rest.

“Tell me when we need the Heat spell again. I know the wind is carrying us, but I don’t want to take any chances if she gets tired of the game.”

“Will do,” Mahya answered me.

After another undetermined time, I began to see more and more lights in the distance, and they became more colorful with every mile.

“Mahya, check our location. I’ll stop the Restore so that it won’t fry the phone. I think I’m seeing Vegas.”

“You are.”

I couldn’t believe it. “How long have we been flying?”

She took out her phone and said, “Twenty hours.”

She taped a few keys on her phone and said, “Our speed is about 28-30 mph.”

I was speechless. We were doing double the optimum speed.

I sent the wind powerful feelings of gratitude, love, and admiration and conveyed to her that our destination is the lights, but not to reach them—just get close. I also asked her to please slow down gradually because the game was coming to its natural conclusion.

For a moment, she resisted; she wanted to keep playing. I sent her the feeling that we would play again, but this game ended because this was the correct point where it was supposed to end. She accepted my desire; it wasn’t an agreement but an acceptance and slowed us down. Again, she tousled my hair playfully in every direction for a last farewell and went to play elsewhere.

“I don’t see Jean,” I said.

“I think we passed it.” She looked at her phone. “Maybe we can land in Sloan?”

“We didn’t study its map. Can you recognize it?”

She pointed at a small cluster of lights very close to Vegas. “I think it’s those lights.”

She cast Wind Funnel to direct the balloon, and in less than ten minutes, we began our descent into Solan.

That was one hell of an interesting flight.