Ravenor doesn’t seem as popular as its prequel Eisenhorn, and on first glance it’s not too hard to see why. The titular lead character is a subtler protagonist, and the plot moves more slowly and intricately. To this reviewer Ravenor certainly doesn’t feel like a Warhammer 40K story either, with barely any references to the weird and wonderful cast of superhuman space marines or aliens of the distant future. While the rest of Abnett’s fiction could belong to no other mythos, Ravenor could almost exist as its own entity. None of this is intended to dismiss the novel though, just to present it as a different beast.

The differences revolve around the protagonists themselves: Eisenhorn was a towering, dominant man, striding across star systems, gathering his deadly followers and mighty weapons and refusing to back down in the face of terrible danger; a galactic juggernaut on a wild quest of heroism and mayhem. Ravenor may be his protégée, but he is also a near destroyed husk, kept on permanent life support inside a sealed chamber and has none of the physical presence of his mentor. He is, however, a brilliant and powerful psyker, and his most memorable battles are played out as duels in the incorporeal world. As a character he is circumspect and cautious, although no less brave or determined than his former master. As a result, his story is told often through the eyes of his team (sometimes as he “wares” or possesses them) and locked inside the machinations of an unravelling mystery and man-hunt. He’s a brave choice to lead the novel as well, and it is to Abnett’s credit he was willing to take such a gamble writing a sequel to the much-loved Eisenhorn and not revert to a stock copy, and here also Abnett keeps the planet-hopping and mass destruction down to a (relative) minimum and spends longer with his heroes and villains, taking the time to develop each.

In many aspects Ravenor is the superior work. The plot is clearly intended to span the three novels in course, rather than Eisenhorn’s somewhat chaotic and furious story-telling, with much more time and attention devoted to its intricacies, creating a steady landslide of plot twists and character arcs that mean hundreds of pages can slip by without the reader being aware.

Characterisation is stronger for the most part: his retinue are a formidable bunch, and Abnett takes longer to sketch them in detail, and allow the reader to get closer, moving past the tropes of burly, musclebound men and beautiful siren women – although there are still plenty of these through both books. Three-dimensional characters are obviously a good thing, but this reviewer thought that Abnett had softened to them as well though, and the novel is far kinder and more protective of its cast than in Eisenhorn where many of the Inquisitor’s followers were brutally despatched, and – minor spoilers ahead – this reviewer had no problems predicting who would and wouldn’t survive the epic final battle.

The action is physical and thrilling, although this is an undeniable strength of Abnett and could almost be casually dismissed as a given. This would do a disservice to the author’s skill though as he works hard to create interesting stages for these battles (one of the most memorable being a scuttling, claustrophobic secret station trapped under the ice of a frozen sea), and although the novel creates – much like Eisenhorn – a tremendous sense of momentum, Ravenor took a long while to hit its stride. The first hundred and fifty pages were ponderous and strangely unengaging, largely consisting of explorations of slum habitats and a city-sized circus. Problematic to say the least considering around this point many novels are looking at their watches and making their excuses to leave. Also, Eisenhorn’s brash and flamboyant story ran parallel with a sense of wonder, as if Abnett was revelling in the magnificent gothic setting of Warhammer 40k, and this reviewer cannot readily quote anything quite as glorious and pompous as the description of an Inqusitor’s retinue in the first trilogy. Ravenor by comparison takes place largely in a seedy, decaying world, dissolved by acid rain and with sprawling endless slums, and as mentioned above, there is very little of the rest of the wonderful 40K ‘verse: no Space Marines, no Inquisition, no elder, although the one of mankind’s most dangerous foes do make a pleasing cameo in the third book.

While the well-worn forces of Chaos comprise the main threat, the villains of the piece still sparkle though, and appropriately so as only the most deranged and powerful would deserve to go against Ravenor’s powerful warband. So we have demons slaved into gleaming killing machines, psychics with raw, bruising powers, masters of dread languages who can cause mass devastation with a single un-word, invisible assassins, a flock of robotic birds that shred their targets, the Moriarty-esque Molotoch to Ravenor’s Holmes… an inspired list that becomes ever menacing and inventive.

This novel doesn’t attempt to resolve its long tale, and it will be interesting to see how the forthcoming concluding trilogy Bequin ties the fate of the two inquisitors together. This reviewer can’t readily think of any other works reaching a combined length of what will probably be near two and half thousand pages, so the challenge will be considerable. But if anything, he has faith that Abnett can pull it off.

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