That was easy for Amal to say of course, he hadn't spent all morning playing magical peekaboo to annoy some anonymous horsemen. Nor had he just blocked a doorway against the vengeful dead. Magically speaking, Emmaline was nearly exhausted and didn't know how much more magic she could work. Still given a choice between being torn apart by an undead monstrosity and trying, she was certainly going to make the effort. 

"Let go!" she yelled at Amal, hoping that he would obey and then tossed the crown underhand up through the gap the creature had punched into the ceiling. The wright roared and leaped after the circlet. Amal tried to cling on but the eldrich powers that kept the thing together gave it predigious strength. It leaped after the crown, crashing through the ceiling of the barrow dropping the Araybian thief to the ground. Emmaline raised both hands and began to chant frantically. The wright fell back into the tomb, the crown gripped in its hand, landing on the floor with both knees and one hand down.

"Now you will..." the doom laden voice cut off as the creature realized that it wasn't actually on the stone floor it remembered. Rather it was six inches deep in a pool of mud.  

"Pathetic Sorceress you seek to undo me with water?" the creature sneered, derision dripping from its lips. Emmaline released the spell and the mud wavered back into the original stone, entombing the lower six inches of the wright in solid rock. It let out a roar of pure frustration and tore at the entombing earth, bones creaking and popping.

"Em..." Amal cautioned but she had already begun to chant again. One of the ancient statues now appeared to be half standing in a pool of mud. Hundreds of pounds of stone began to tip, slowly but with increasing speed as the statue toppled over, coming down atop of the barrow wrigt with a crash that seemed to shake the very earth and kicked up a wall of sepulchral dust that coated everything in the chamber. Emmaline sneezed violently as the dust began to settle. All the remained of the creature was a disarticulated arm protruding from beneath the ruin of the kingly statue.

"For my next trick," Emmaline coughed, sitting down heavily and leaning back against a wall, "I shall need a volunteer."