The Darvellian commander gave his command simultaneously.
The high-pitched twang of bowstrings erupted around Gunnar as his archers fired. The crossbows across the river made cracking sounds as they loosed their payloads.
There was a half-second of silence while both volleys were airborne. Gunnar held his breath.
The impact of the projectiles sounded like shuffling cards. Crossbow quarrels stuck the hull of the Gryphon II and studded its deck. Several Holy Army archers fell or wheeled around, grasping frantically at the tails of broad-headed darts buried in their chests, arms, or shoulders. Across the river, Holy Army arrows bounced off Darvellian hulls or stuck there like quills. A few crossbowmen cried out. One toppled overboard and smashed into the shallows below.
The foremost Darvellian ship was being pushed back from the shore, preparing to intercept Gunnar's tiny fleet. Oars extended from the rowlocks.
"Ready!" Gunnar shouted. "Aim! Fire!"