The Last Light (The Wandering Inn, #5)

by Pirateaba

Blank looks. Quallet couldn’t believe this. “The undead! The restless souls that rise from unburied corpses and in places of power! Have you never seen one before?” They hadn’t. Xor had to actually rub at his head’s eyes with his hands and Raeh looked incredulous. The other Lizardfolk were staring at the Humans as if they were idiots. The Centaurs were making a joke of the entire thing as they laughed amongst themselves. “The dead rise. Zombies, skeletons, ghouls…they get worse with time and depending on the corpse and amount of death. A [Necromancer] can raise them and command them, but undead will spawn naturally from unburied corpses. That might not be a problem in a quiet village where the dead can be laid to rest—or cremated—but this is Baleros. A place where war is always present! We’re headed towards a battlefield where two companies—with thousands or tens of thousands of soldiers—are fighting each day! What do you think will happen to all those bodies?” “They rise?” How could anyone ask that like a question? Quallet scowled.

Freaking paradigm shift. At least they had zombie movies as some kind of mental referrence