The vastness of the Warhammer 40,000 universe is one of its enduring appeals. Since Rogue Trader appeared in 1987, an old-growth’s forest’s-worth of paper and ink has been consumed in expanding it, pushing the boundaries further out, and increasing its depth. These days there is no shortage of rabbit holes and deep-dives you can fall into if a particular niche or element catches your fancy.
At the same time, it makes it fairly easy to ignore the ones you don’t. For me, the Night Lords would be an example of the former, and the T’au probably the poster children for the latter. I’m not into the T’au hate-train, they’ve just never struck me as all that interesting.
It was with that same tepid enthusiasm that I initially approached Elemental Council. With a title that made it sound like a story of political intrigue and a page count about a third longer than your average Black Library book, I was in no hurry to pull it from the shelf.
Two things moved that needle to bring us to where we are now. First, I read Godeater’s Son, which caught my attention after seeing Noah van Nguyen referred to as “Age of Sigma’s Dan Abnett.” That proved a bit reductive; van Nguyen does write terrific military action scenes (in part, no doubt, due to him being a combat veteran), but he also had a very keen eye for the effects of colonialism which gave Godeater’s Son a riveting perspective.
And second, his own blog post on how he went about meticulously researching the book made me far more curious to see the finished product.
So with all that being said, I’ll just come out and say it: Elemental Council is an extraordinary piece of work.
The Story
For those, like me, who are somewhat vague in their understanding of this particular faction, the Ethereals are the rulers of T’au society. The T’au regard the Ethereals “with a reverence bordering on the religious. Secular rulers; priests; grand galactic strategists; the Ethereals are all these things, and the respect they are paid is absolute.” (10th Ed. Codex)
Turns out, the titular ‘Council’ isn’t a bunch of bureaucrats babbling on about which foreign policy elements best serve the Greater Good, but rather a gathering of operatives from different castes for a much more terrestrial objective- the rescue of a missing Ethereal.
When one does, Ethereal Yor’i, the Paramount Mover, must assemble a team from all four T’au Castes to find her. He recruits the pilot Sei from the Air Caste, engineer Ke from Earth, spymaster Orr from the Water Caste, and from Fire the renowned warrior Swordlight.
Meanwhile, the planet Cao Quo is a simmering cauldron of dissent and insurrection, having only recently been wrested from the Imperium. Led by the Raptors Space Marine, Artamax, the Human insurgency seems to be everywhere and nowhere at once. What seems a straightforward task reveals layers of intrigue, and the closer they get to untangling the truth the more they see a T’au hand moving against them behind the scenes.
In a species defined by its internal harmony, what secrets are worth killing over- and why?
Depth and Pacing
Elemental Council may be longer than your average Warhammer story, but it’s dense- and not in the bad way. Filled with plot twists, misdirection, schemes within schemes and multiple narrative threads woven together- all set within a highly detailed and fascinating but unfamiliar culture- I felt like I was reading the Black Library’s version of James Clavell’s Shōgun.
Not only do you not need to be familiar with the T’au to enjoy this book, but it’s so nutrient-rich that you’ll come out with a much greater understanding. The T’au aren’t just character skins for a story that could really have been about anyone, but rather the anchor at the very heart of the tale and to fully appreciate where this story goes it helps to have an understanding of them. Van Nguyen puts in an extraordinary effort in weaving the depth and tenor of their psyche and soul into the narrative, not in clumsy blocks of exposition but interlaced in the story. As a result, Elemental Council never loses its stride or overstays its welcome.
There was no time where I wished he’d just “hurry up and get to the end already.” Instead, it was still racing along at page numbers most other books have concluded by.
The Crusades Through Alien Eyes
In any conflict, there are at least two (and often many more) sides to the story. Van Nguyen not only does a terrific job of getting you inside the mind of the T’au, but he does incredible work at turning the lens on the Imperium.
Antagonists in Warhammer stories tend not to be as memorable as the protagonists. There are exceptions, but even ones I’ve recently enjoyed (the Night Lord in Morvenn Vahl, the Eightbound in Broken Crusade) I struggle to recall the names of. They’re there in service to the story, a challenge for the hero to overcome, and most tend not to survive to the final page.
But in Artamax, the Raptor Space Marine, van Nguyen has created an unforgettable villain. As Black Library readers we are immersed in stories casting Loyalist Space Marines as larger-than-life heroes, valor and duty turned up to eleven. And sure, it would be simple to make a “Space Marine villain” by having him, say, set fire to the local T’au orphanage or something equally moustache-twirly-dastardly. Van Nguyen doesn’t take the easy path here of making you hate him by a few awful acts.
Instead, we get a clash of civilizations, with the all-consuming xenophobia of the Imperium made manifest in a warrior who endures physical degradation over the course of the book. As the demands of his guerrilla struggle on an occupied world take their toll, van Nguen is unsparing in depicting his wrecked armor and the scars and wounds he accumulates until he virtually becomes an avatar of war animated by unrelenting hate.
Exuding menace, Artamax is ultimately hard to admire- and hard not to. Job well done.
Lived Lives
As I read through Elemental Council, I was struck by just how fully portrayed van Nguyen’s characters were. These were no two-dimensional cutouts, but an ensemble of well-envisioned and skillfully written protagonists whose lives moved the story forward. A version of the Bechdel Test occurred to me, one that assessed the richness of characters by whether or not they 1) had conversations with one another that, 2) don’t directly have to do with the plot.
There were the occasional references to Commander Farsight as well, which made the story feel more real. Black Library stories tend to exist in silos. Sure the background information is the same (the Emperor is the Emperor, etc.), but what happens in one book doesn’t usually exist in another unless they either happen to be written by the same author or are part of a linked series (ex. Dawn of Fire). I wish more books did this, it really makes the universe feel inhabited.
In Conclusion
As in Godeater’s Son, van Nguyen explores the effects of colonialism here to great effect. In the Age of Sigmar book, the main characters were the victims of it; here, they are its perpetrators. The reconciliation of that with the concept of the T’au’s Greater Good philosophy (and its varying interpretations) makes for a fascinating throughline as the story develops.
When on page 226 one of the T’au says, “We need not save the humans. They are the ones who save us. Who remind us our dream is not in vain,” it’s not just a hollow platitude. Rather, the line resonates on a fundamental level because of the 225 pages that led up to it, and van Nguyen putting in the work.
Van Nguyen’s T’au do come across largely as “good guys” here, but complicated ones. Ones that can both believe they are a force for good in the universe, and yet lash out in petty and destructive ways. Here I have to suspect the author’s identity plays no small part; an American of Vietnamese descent who served as a combat veteran in Afghanistan almost certainly has thoughts. That combat experience proves a rich vein to mine as well, lending a great deal of credibility to his action scenes and discussion of combat tactics.
Ultimately, Elemental Council is a spectacular offering, one whose excellence is not relative to being within the Black Library but instead is a terrific work of mature science-fiction. Van Nguyen is a tremendous talent and I look forward to seeing more from him on both sides of the property line.
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